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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23720701">Reparation</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/AzureTiger/pseuds/AzureTiger'>AzureTiger</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Avengers Family, Canon Divergence - Avengers (2012), Canon Divergence - Thor (2011), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Hurt Steve Rogers, Hurt Thor (Marvel), Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Psychological Torture, Rape Recovery, Rape/Non-con Elements, Recovery, everyone is sad and I'm not sorry</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-20 06:01:25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>192,957</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23720701</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/AzureTiger/pseuds/AzureTiger</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Thor who falls from the rainbow bridge instead of Loki, and it's Thor tasked with bringing the Chitauri invasion about. He arrives to Earth a very different man, a more skilled warrior than he was, but wrong. Broken and made into something stronger. </p>
<p>What will it take to stop him? What will it take to set him free?<br/>--<br/>Steve struggles to find his place in the 21st century, and to find himself. The Avengers seems to be a good starting point, though there are some things Fury can never give him. What Steve needs is someone who's had time stolen from them, too. And in helping each other, maybe they can help themselves in-turn.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Loki &amp; Thor, Steve Rogers &amp; Natasha Romanov, Steve Rogers/Thor</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>197</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>196</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reklusa/gifts">Reklusa</a>, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writing_is_THORapy/gifts">Writing_is_THORapy</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I owe this story idea to my two friends, Writing_is_THORapy, and Reklusa. This might turn out a lot darker than my previous works, and the rating/warnings are subject to change. There are a few decisions I have yet to make... Do anticipate darker themes though, and of course the usual fighting. There may also be more sexy times, if I feel the story calls for it. Warnings will always be included, as well as for any potentially triggering topics.</p>
<p>I hope to settle into a posting rhythm soon, though I might be a bit slower than usual with exams and job-hunting :) As usual though, I do have some artwork ready!</p>
<p>As always, I look forward to your feedback &lt;3 thank you all, and stay safe!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><strong> <a href="https://www.dictionary.com/browse/reparation">reparation</a><br/>
</strong> <em> noun </em> </p>
<ol>
<li>The making of amends for wrong or injury done: <em>reparation for an injustice.</em>
</li>
<li>Usually reparations. compensation in money, material, labor, etc., payable by a defeated country to another country or to an individual for loss suffered during or as a result of war.</li>
<li>Restoration to good condition. </li>
</ol>
<hr/><p>All siblings fight, regardless of species. Odin’s sons are no different. But when gods quarrel, planets suffer. </p><p>The rainbow bridge is shattered, the bi-frost having tumbled away into the claws of space. They’re trapped here now. Well, not quite. The plunge over the edge is just as accessible. That plunge is only a few footsteps away. One mistake, and one of them is going over. </p><p>Thor swings his hammer, muscles shining with sweat and his breaths heaving. There is dew in his eyes, the glimmer of sorrow for what he’s just done. He cleft Asgard from the rest of the universe, leaving it to hang suspended with no connection to the other realms. That weight is heavy in his shoulders. He swings his hammer with that burden in his stroke. </p><p>Loki raises his spear, spinning it in deft fingers and deflecting his brother’s harsh blow. They dance, because Loki dances, and Thor is forced to follow his footwork. Thor is stronger, but is Loki faster, cleverer. He knows his brother’s weaknesses, his fighting technique. A few days on Earth have not changed him to be unrecognizable. He seems older, certainly, but his technique is still too brash. Loki has been building off his attacks, one after another, until he’s finally set himself up to slash through an opening. The tip of the spear carves into Thor’s armor, leaving a gouge in the metal. The prince staggers, and Loki yells with centuries’ worth of suffering and kicks his brother in the chest. </p><p>It’s a solid kick, enough that Thor actually loses his footing, eyes widening as he drops his hammer and waves his arms for balance. Too late, he’s already tipping over the edge of the bridge, his huge shoulders starting to drop and his mouth opening to cry out. Loki moves faster than he anticipated, launching forward and reaching out with his staff. “<em> No! </em>” </p><p>He hadn’t meant to shout, or move. Thor’s death should be the goal, with the throne as the prize. That was the point of all this, wasn’t it? To take what is rightfully his? All he had to do was stand there, but his legs and his arms and his heart won’t let him. Loki falls on his stomach, his horned helmet falling off and vanishing into the galaxies below. He grips his spear tightly, staring down into Thor’s petrified eyes, his brother grasping the spear too. </p><p>This has gone too far. His plan was supposed to be perfect... </p><p>Maybe it was too perfect. </p><p>“Grab my hand!” Loki yells, throwing it down. Thor reaches, hauling himself up a bit higher. “Grab it!” </p><p>They’re so close, fingers almost brushing, but not quite. Thor is strong enough to hold himself up even with one arm, but his grip is sliding, and his weight is starting to pull Loki back too. The force of distant galaxies pulls at Thor’s cape, starting to drag him back. It whips his cape and hair. Soon it will whip Thor away. </p><p>“Reach, Thor!” Odin is at his side, haggard but alert, stretching as far as he can while hanging on to Loki’s shoulder with a strong hand. He clings to one son and strains for the other, desperate to gather them all together.  </p><p>Thor can’t reach. For all his strength, his arms aren’t long enough. If only their arms reached a bit further, or they could have hung on. Thor’s hand slides off the end of the spear, and he tumbles, shouting and calling his hammer. It’s already vanished into the swirling galaxies, and now Thor’s falling down past the waterfall too, into the black. </p><p>They stare, waiting for Thor to fly back up with his hammer spinning, but he doesn’t. Space has swallowed him faster than he could save himself. Loki pants, a crushing weight grasping his chest. He can’t stand, and neither can Odin, fallen weakly to one knee beside him. They stare down into the great nothing. </p><p>Loki finally stands up, feeling like he should be happy, victorious even, for accomplishing what he had wanted. The throne is his. Thor, who had always annoyed him, been the favorite child while Loki was pushed to the shadows, is gone. Loki is finally free. He stands at the edge of the rainbow bridge and watches, still hoping for a moment or two that his stubborn, stupid brother will suddenly appear. </p><p>Like the bi-frost, Thor is gone, and Loki has to watch his mother weep while he breaks the news to her and tried not to cry himself. What right to cry does he have? </p><p>Odin doesn’t last long. Barely a day passes before he falls right back into the Odinsleep. Of course, the throne falls to Loki. </p><p>Nothing can be undone, so he should at least try to enjoy this. Loki searches for that sense of pride, but it has all vaporized, leaving him with a void, a vacuum still searching for something to be filled with. Right now, his chest is dragging in any jumble of emotion he can manage to conjure. Anger, sorrow, perhaps a tiny bit of pride that he doesn’t want to think about, regret... </p><p>Asgard mourns their lost prince, and Loki watches from a window in his room, not wanting anyone to see him. He is afraid of their judgment. How much do they know? Would they hate him if he wasn’t sad enough, or hate him more for being too sad? Loki himself isn’t quite sure just how sad he is, only that his heart aches, and this feels far lonelier than he’d ever imagined it would. Thor, his brother, is dead. For all their shortcomings, for Thor’s ignorance and rampant thirst for battle, he had proven to be kind at heart. And in the end, they had shared centuries together. Suddenly, that is all gone, a thing of the past. In the very least, it feels unsatisfactory, a pathetic end to their rivalry. And all for what, because he had been jealous? </p><p>The throne is his now, anyway. Whether he still feels the same desire for it, to the same degree and with the same flavor, they are here. Loki is going to make the best of it. </p><p>One hundred years isn’t that long for a god, but it drags on for Loki. Asgard thrives, as it always does. They rebuild the bi-frost in a couple of short years, and Heimdall returns to guarding it. Loki can’t bear to ask of the watcher if his brother is still out there, perhaps his body floating peacefully among the stars. He has a feeling Heimdall is looking all the same. </p><p>Odin sleeps, inert and as dead to the world as ever. Perhaps he really is dead, his body forced to survive by the magical barrier over him. He is as good as a corpse, anyway. Easier to blame what happened on his comatose father. If only Odin had been a bit faster, tried a little harder. If only he had shown a bit more love to his other son and not so obviously laid out that one would rise to the throne over the other. Perhaps then Thor would be with them. </p><p>Battle keeps his mind busy most of the time. Once the bi-frost is restored, there are plenty of colonies scattered about the nine realms that have fallen into chaos. Loki deals with them as he sees fit, sending soldiers this way and that to resolve the strife ultimately brought on by his own actions. </p><p>Frigga does what she can for him, but she spends a lot of her time with Odin, begging for him to wake up and fill some of the unfillable hole in their family. Loki is glad that he sleeps, because he would not be able to keep himself from yelling at his adoptive father for long. </p><p>One day, he can’t take it anymore, and wanders down through the streets and all the way to the bi-frost. Heimdall stands watch as always, gazing calmly out into the world. “My king,” he greets respectfully, always so casual and not at all cold as Loki would expect. </p><p>“How fare the stars?” Loki tries, coming to stand by the watcher at the base of the platform, staring alongside him into the galaxies. </p><p>“They shine, as always,” Heimdall replies. “I was hoping you might come.” </p><p>“You could have sent for me,” Loki peers up, unable to hide the slight tremor of curiosity in his voice. </p><p>“I thought it best to leave you come in your own time,” the watcher stares on, unblinking. “It is not urgent. But perhaps you would like to know where Mjolnir is.” </p><p>Loki blinks in mild surprise, something clutching deep in his heart. Mjolnir by itself means it isn’t with Thor, which is surely an indication that his brother has not survived. In all this time, there was still a glimmer of possibility, but that seals it. If Thor were alive, he would have called his hammer. </p><p>“It orbits Midgard,” Heimdall replies just as evenly, gazing out at something only he can see. Maybe that is a tear gathering in his eye, if Loki is seeing as well as usual, but perhaps he’s imagining it on the stoic guardian. </p><p>“For how long...?” Loki asks quietly. </p><p>“Most of this century.” </p><p>They stand in respectful silence, some sort of solidarity there, though burdened by the distance Loki has felt between himself and everyone else since Thor fell. He attacked Heimdall back then, for gods’ sake. But the watcher doesn’t seem bothered by that. He was never the type to hold grudges. </p><p>“I am sorry,” Loki murmurs, surprising himself. A hundred years of guilt has finally pushed its way out of his mouth. “Truly. I am sorry.” </p><p>Heimdall turns his eyes toward the king and stares right through him, into the voices in his heart. “What’s done is done,” he remarks with a tone free of judgement or blame. “Asgard has done well under your rule, Loki. You have grown into a wise and level-headed king. Wiser than I would have anticipated.” </p><p>Loki peers off into the stars. “The price was too high.” A brother for a kingdom? He’s been ripped off. </p><p>He can’t bring himself to tell his mother about Mjolnir, that it’s drifting alone around Midgard. Perhaps it looks like a star from there, or maybe it’s too small to see. Loki hopes that it’s not entirely overlooked, that even one person has peered up into a night sky and seen it glimmer. </p><p>The next day he feels oddly lighter. Loki leans out his window and watches the sun come up, until a voice calls him from the door. </p><p>“My king!” </p><p>Loki whirls and stands to find a soldier in his doorway, panting and stricken. “Speak!” He orders. </p><p>“My king, Heimdall...” the soldier points, struggling for the right words. “Thor... Thor is on Midgard. Heimdall has just noticed him appear there.” </p><p>Loki is striding. Heimdall is no practical joker, and no-one would dare make a joke about such a thing. Which means that either Heimdall’s eyes are failing him, the watcher has gone mad, or... </p><p>The king of Asgard runs. He runs past the soldier, past his mother coming to meet him in the hall, past his father’s bedroom, and out into the streets. He runs all the way to the bi-frost, across the rainbow bridge long-installed with railings, across the still-visible line in the prismatic glass-like bridge, and into the golden dome. Heimdall is waiting, more emotion on his face than he’s ever shown while Loki has known him. </p><p>Heimdall holds his gaze, and Loki knows it is the truth. “He lives,” the watcher confirms, his calm demeanor cracking. That’s concern in his expression, perhaps a little bit of fear, too. Joy, certainly, but more fear. </p><p>“Is he well?” Loki demands, his legs locked. He’s dreamed of this moment, that the universe might undo his mistake and give him another chance. “Bring him back, Heimdall!” </p><p>It isn’t that simple. It was never that simple. “You must be warned,” the watcher explains. “There is evil in the stars today, and there is evil on Midgard. You must be careful.” </p><p>Loki raises an eyebrow, and in a shimmer of green he’s standing there adorned in gold, his spear in-hand, horns of his helmet curling off his forehead. “Evil will have to face me.” </p><p>Heimdall lets out the smallest of sighs, but there is some relief there. “Go,” he orders. Loki goes. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>YOU get a new suit, YOU get a new suit, EVERYBODY gets a new suit!</p><p>Hey look, it's my old 'I-hate-everything-I've-ever-drawn' syndrome, back to plague me! Yay! Which means I'll be back with more drawings, but for now have a look at these 1.0 designs. (psst, I also post other artwork on my <a href="https://stormyandrescuer.tumblr.com/">tumblr</a> too!)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p>“We need you to come in.” A blessing in the form of an order. </p><p>Orders are familiar, and concrete. <em> Do this, go here. </em> They’re a place to start. Despite that small part of him that’s still human screaming that surely he’s given the world enough, that they couldn’t possibly ask for more when he <em> died </em> for them... Without any structure, he’s lost. Lost in a world that no longer has a place for him, or if it does, he’s yet to find it or carve it out. Steve just doesn’t know where to start, or what to do with himself. But with an order, now he has somewhere. </p><p>That doesn’t mean Steve always obeys those orders, but at least with one explicitly given he can decide if he wants to disobey it or not. Hard to disobey orders that haven't been given. This particular one though, he decides he’s going to follow. The world needs him again, and he needs to get off his ass. </p><p>Fury rescues him from the gym, waiting patiently while the soldier puts his stuff away and cleans up in the shower. When he emerges, he feels taller, and holds his head higher. Fury’s eyebrow twitches a little, but he guides Steve calmly out to the street, and into a black SUV parked on the curb. “How’s life, Captain?” </p><p>Steve isn’t prepared to answer questions, and to be honest, he’s not sure he wants to give an answer. He feels his brief burst of his old lively fire fizzle to nothing and gazes out the window, folding his arms across his chest. </p><p>Fury huffs before he can give an answer. “That bad, huh.” </p><p>The director of SHIELD doesn’t press, and Steve’s grateful for that. He straightens and listens to the debrief as they drive, soothed by the familiar whir in his head as his brain clocks information and weaves it into a shape. With a natural tactical ability, plus the serum to help, he quickly weaves himself a tapestry. The most important part of making a good plan is knowing where the holes were, and finding the right thread to weave them shut wherever possible. </p><p>Right now, he’s got a few glaring holes. “Who did you say took the tesseract?” Someone ‘not from around here’ isn’t much of a description, and Fury knows that, given the way he glances over and pauses to reply. </p><p>He’s choosing his words very carefully. “Captain, the world now is very different from when you knew it.” </p><p>Steve turns his body in his seat to face the director. “With all due respect, sir, I’ve seen what the tesseract can do.” <em> I’ve seen some crazy shit. Try me. </em> This feeling of defiance is old and familiar, rooted deep inside him from a lifetime of never being enough. That stir is life-giving, and he feels a bit like Steve again. </p><p>Fury sighs and focuses intently on the road. “Steve, our world is a lot bigger than Earth.” </p><p><em> Where do you think the tesseract comes from? It’s certainly not one of Howard Stark’s inventions. It wasn’t made in a lab like I was. </em>He’d seen it vaporize Shmidt in front of him, rip the Red Skull’s body from this planet and drag it into the stars. He’d seen the tesseract pulse with infinite energy. Steve holds his stare on Fury and invites an honest answer. He doesn’t like games, though he knows Fury doesn’t either, so this must be one hell of a revelation if it’s being so clung to. </p><p>“We were studying it a week ago,” Fury starts, taking the next exit off the highway and following the side road. “The tesseract can... create portals. It acts as a doorway, and someone opened it from the other end while we were testing it.” </p><p>“Not from around here,” Steve quirks his eyebrow. He’s ready. “Who came through?” </p><p>Fury snorts, driving them farther and farther from the city. “Someone not all too friendly. Stronger than our best agents. He took the tesseract, and any of the agents he didn’t kill he turned them into his personal flying monkeys.” Steve frowns. “With a magic spear,” Fury finishes with an exasperated shake of his head. </p><p>Magic spear? Well, surely the tesseract wasn’t the only vaguely magical object out there. Which means there are people out there with other magical objects, who might want this one too. Steve decides not to think too hard about the ‘magic’ part and focus on the who and what. How strong are these people, and what needs to be done to stop them? “What did he want?” Steve asks.  </p><p>“He’s the strong and silent type, unfortunately,” Fury shakes his head, turning a corner and driving up through the trees. “But he has one of my best agents under some kind of mind spell, and he’s got the tesseract. I don’t want to wait long enough to find out what he’s going to do with them.” </p><p>A fight is coming, but Steve was made for fighting, even before he got a body that could fight better than any person on Earth. Whoever this stranger from outer space is, he’s on Earth now, and Steve hopes he’ll still be strong enough to fight him. And if not, well, Captain America will go down swinging. “What’s the play?” </p><p>“I’ll catch you up with what we know when we’re with the others,” Fury turns another corner, and they’re approaching a landing pad safely hidden in the trees. There’s a jet waiting for them, surrounded by more black SUVs and men in suits. Fury parks, and they both get out </p><p>“Others?” Steve frowns. </p><p>“Like I said, Captain, the world has changed.” Fury says no more than that and leads the way up the ramp. </p><p>A man is waiting to greet the director, falling into step beside Steve to follow his boss inside. The engines whir to life, and the man takes off his sunglasses, holding out his hand to shake. “Phil Coulson,” he smiles somewhat excitedly. “Can I just say, it’s an honor.” </p><p>Steve shakes the hand and smiles politely. He’s really not in the mood, but he can’t be rude. He can’t think of what to say as he’s guided to a bench and handed a tablet. Coulson switches it on, and the screen lights up with video clips and pictures. It’s time to learn a little about these people Fury has gathered. Frankly, Steve doesn’t know what to expect. Do they know Captain America is on his way? Will they be waiting for a legend to walk through the door? Will they listen to him; will they be expected to? Or is he just here for decoration? <em> At ease, Rogers. </em>He forcefully quells his anxiety and decides to give them a chance. </p><p>-- </p><p>This creature from outer space is awfully human, and not just because of his bi-pedal stature. Steve stares at the security footage Fury is playing while the director explains to them everything SHIELD knows. The soldier is only half listening, but he can easily go back on that information and play it back to himself without missing a single detail. The serum lets him focus on more than one thing at a time. He focuses the other half of himself on the screen, on the way the alien moves. He’s fast, strong, a better warrior than Steve has ever encountered. Easily as fast as Steve himself, easily as strong. Maybe more. <em> Likely </em> more. There are other worlds beyond Earth, obviously, and Steve is only special on his own planet. </p><p>The video ends with a crackle of static as the tesseract explodes and takes the building with it. Everything goes black, and the screen is filled with a still color image of their alien visitor. There it is, that glimmer of humanity that goes beyond physical appearance. The picture is a bit grainy, but Steve can see the alien’s dark eyes clear enough to see emotion there, and the scar cutting across one. It’s no mindless beast, and it’s not an ‘it’, either. That’s as much a man as any walking, talking creature on Earth.  </p><p>Steve glances over at Natasha. She’s staring with an expression he can’t read, but he can see a little bit of anger there. One of the men this alien took is a friend of hers. </p><p>Steve likes Natasha. She’s smart, straight-forward, and observant. She’s aware of her surroundings, and practical. Nat may wear the SHIELD emblem on her uniform, but she’s no lap dog. “How are the scans going?” she asks. </p><p>“Every camera on the planet is on the lookout for this guy,” Fury nods. “And the rest of our agents.” </p><p>Natasha nods and shuts her eyes for a moment. Steve feels the urge to comfort her, but he doesn’t know her well enough to know if she would rather be left alone, or if she might like a hand on her shoulder. </p><p>The moment passes. Bruce Banner is tapping a pen against his hand. “I can start scanning for the tesseract,” he offers. </p><p>“Do that,” Fury nods. “Romanoff. Show the doctor to his laboratory please?” </p><p>The spy agrees and turns away, and Steve is left staring at the screens with Tony beside him. Stark Junior is a lot like his father, wildly imaginative and more than a little cocky. He <em> looks </em> so much like Howard – the sight of him almost sent Steve reeling back to the past that for him is only a few months gone. Tony walks around like he owns the place: pushing buttons, tapping screens, and generally doing whatever he damn well pleases. This is a lot at once, and Steve needs to get away from it for a little while. </p><p>Luckily, the brief is over, and all they can do for the time being is wait for the scans to come up with something. Steve needs a bit of quiet to organize all this information in his head and start coming up with a plan. He’s still not sure what his role in all of this is going to be, but he needs to be prepared that they might ask him to lead this team, or follow someone else. Steve needs to be prepared to follow. If that leader is Stark, then he needs to come to terms with that, push his first impressions aside, and support his leader. </p><p>For now, none of that is on the table, so he forgets about it, draping his leather jacket over his shoulder and wandering off into the corridors of the helicarrier. It’s nice to get lost sometimes, see where his feet take him then work his way back to his starting point. It’s not like he can get <em> that </em> lost trapped in this flying prison (or with his perfect memory cataloging his steps whether he wants it or not). He hooks one thumb through the loop of his jacket, the other in his pocket, and goes for a walk. </p><p>People stare up at him as he passes, but they give him space. Humanity has had almost seventy years to write Captain America into history, turn him into a legend, a martyr (even though he ended up not being dead). A hero. These people have heard tales, and everything they know about him is second, probably third or fourth-hand information at best. They don’t know him. They only know the posters, the movies, screenshots of the man – the ideal – America used to encourage their forces and intimidate the opposition. Steve doesn’t want to let them down, but he’s not entirely sure what they expect of him either. He doesn’t know all the details they’ve been told, or the pictures they’ve painted in their heads.  </p><p>It doesn’t matter. Steve will do what he did in the war: tighten his bootstraps, suit up, and fight. He just hopes he gets a chance to gather all the details so he can decide where he stands on all of it. Fury seems like a good man, so he’s willing to trust at least a little that he wants the same thing Steve wants: to protect. It’s the director’s methods Steve can foresee himself disagreeing with. Soldiers and spies will always disagree, if not in their morals, then in their methods. </p><p>“Rogers.” He turns, and Natasha is there, jogging to catch up. She falls into step beside him, not a strand of hair out of place. </p><p>“Romanoff,” he nods respectfully, but carries on. </p><p>She follows. “I figured you might want a room. Coulson set one aside for you.” </p><p>A room might be nice, a space that’s his. He nods gratefully and gives her a smile that feels a bit sadder on his lips than he means it to. “Thanks.” </p><p>“Of course,” she smiles back. “You want to come get something to eat first? Fury isn’t known for being the best host. I wouldn’t be surprised if he forgot.” </p><p>Some food would be nice. Steve nods without really thinking. He hasn’t eaten since his very early breakfast, and that was long before his morning workout. The serum needs the fuel, and lucky for him he never has to worry about food again. This isn’t the Great Depression, or the war, and he has more money than he knows what to do with, thanks to his army pension. Fury has promised him early on that he’d make sure the soldier had everything he needed, had even found him an apartment to live in. </p><p>It’s not much of a home though, but Fury can’t give him that. Steve’s glad to be out of it, actually. It feels haunted, like a prison. It’s too empty, full of relics of a past long-gone because they’re the only belongings he has, and he doesn’t know where to start looking to replace them. He’s not sure he <em> wants </em> to – he’s not sure where to anchor himself. He feels like an island, but this new mission is a bridge into the world. </p><p>“I don’t suppose Coulson told you about his trading cards yet,” Natasha quirks an eyebrow, calmly diverting their path in another direction. “Has he asked you to sign them?” </p><p>It’s not exactly what Steve needs right now. He shakes his head. He’s sure Coulson means well, but it’s just fuel to the revelation that these people are welcoming Captain America, the legend, aboard their vessel. That’s who they want. </p><p>Natasha is too smart to miss the melancholic blanket that’s settled over his shoulders, though he’s ashamed to admit that it’s probably not all that subtle. The spy smiles at him kindly. “Sorry.” </p><p>He frowns. “For what?” </p><p>“This isn’t what you signed up for. We asked you to come because we need your help, not to be a poster boy.” </p><p>“Who’s ‘we’?” Steve watches her carefully, but he’s not sure he’d be able to tell if she were lying. She’s too practiced, too good, and he doesn’t know her that well. </p><p>Natasha’s smile is a shade teasing, but not unkind. “Fury. And I didn’t make the call, but we could use a guy like you around. Someone to keep Stark in check at least.” </p><p>“Worked with him before?” </p><p>Natasha snorts. “Sort of. He’s a good man, at heart. You’ll get used to him.” </p><p>“How are you with all this?” Steve asks as she leads him around a corner and into a cafeteria of sorts. They may think him naïve and unexposed to modern technology, to all this business with magic and monsters and aliens, but in truth he’s probably seen more of it than they have. Perhaps they’ve forgotten he fought the Red Skull, fought against weapons made using the tesseract. He’s seen things. </p><p>Natasha shrugs, handing him a tray and generously scooping food onto a plate. She places it on the tray and sticks a couple of apples beside the heaping pile of pasta. “This is work,” she slides some cutlery on too and drops a banana into her pocket so her hands are free to pour coffee into two cups. “It’s no weirder than you. No offense.” </p><p>“None taken,” he smiles a bit at that. Maybe the serum does classify as ‘magic’ to some degree, at least in the sense that it’s beyond the understanding of most people. <em> Everyone other than </em> <em> Erkine </em> <em> , actually. So, no-one. </em>Someone somewhere must understand how the tesseract works, but to the rest of them it’s just magic. The serum is a bit like that, and Steve being a scientific miracle of its making. Natasha isn’t marveling at him though. She’s just talking to him like he’s a normal person, unfazed by the legends he drags with him. </p><p>They sit together, and Natasha picks a table away from the other agents, leaning back and peeling her banana. She sips her coffee, watching Steve pick up his fork and blink at the food she’s heaped in front of him. She must have read his file to know that the serum needs to be fed like this. Steve’s been embarrassed in the past, but Natasha is completely unbothered, breaking off some banana and popping it delicately into her mouth. She swallows. “Are you ready to fight?” she asks. </p><p>Always. Steve twirls pasta onto his fork and nods grimly. </p><p>“We can practice a bit, if you like. There’s a gym on this deck. Beating the hell out of punching bags isn’t the same as fighting a real person.” </p><p>Steve looks up and catches her cocky eyebrow raise. She’s offering to spar with him. “You think you could keep up?” </p><p>“Frankly, Rogers, I was going to ask you the same thing.” </p><p>“I don’t want to hurt you.” He’s not being cocky, he just knows how strong he is. One misplaced punch could kill her. </p><p>“Neither do I,” she replies easily, laying her empty peel on his tray. “Did you read my file?” </p><p>“Coulson briefed me on the jet-” </p><p>“Then you know my training is a bit... unconventional.” </p><p>She’s an assassin, one of the deadliest in the world. Yes, he’s read her file, and he’s seen clips of her fighting. “And you’ve read mine.” </p><p>“Of course. I always do my homework,” She sips her coffee. “Eat. Then I’ll show you your room and help you unpack. Your food should have gone down by then, and we’ll see just how out of practice you are.” </p><p>Steve very much likes the sound of that. </p><p>-- </p><p>Natasha’s questions have been valid, and she quickly proves herself to be a much better warrior than any video recording could display. Their size difference hardly has any bearing on the outcome. The spy knows how to use her body, but more than that, she knows how to use Steve’s. And Steve is hopelessly out of date with his fighting style, even with his instincts and speed and resilience and strength to help him. Natasha is just better, and soon she’s woven her lithe body around his and put him in a headlock. She doesn’t need to be strong to pin him down, only clever, and she’s got his arm held in such a way that he can’t break free with raw strength alone, not without hurting himself. She’s twisted his joints the wrong way, and is holding him there. </p><p>“Still worried about hurting me, Rogers?” she smirks. </p><p>He can’t help but chuckle, tapping her arm. She releases him, rolling to her feet like a cat and tossing him a bottle of water. He sits on the mat and catches it, taking a long drink. It’s been decades since he’s fought anyone, and no matter how well the serum maintains his strength and flexibility, he’s still out of practice. </p><p>But he has made Natasha break a sweat, and he can tell already that’s an accomplishment. She wipes her brow and sits beside him, sipping her own drink. “Not bad for a hundred-year-old man,” she leans back on her hand. “Could use some practice though.” </p><p>He really could. Steve smiles, and it feels tight on his face, new. He’s not smiled like this in a while. “Yeah, probably.” </p><p>“Could teach you a few things,” she offers. “Karate, judo, kick boxing... If you want.” </p><p>Not many people would have the gall to offer to train Captain America, and even fewer would be in a position to teach him anything. Natasha is one of those few in the overlap. Steve holds out his hand. “Okay.” </p><p>The spy takes it. “You’ve got yourself a deal, soldier. I expect you down here every morning, six am sharp.” </p><p>“Little late in the morning, don’t you think?” He lifts an eyebrow. </p><p>“Only for you,” she smiles. “For normal people, that’s just right. Off your ass, Rogers. Let’s go check on Banner. Maybe he’s found something.” She stands and offers her hand, and he takes it. She seems less tense, the worry brewing under her noble, alert exterior quelled. Her friend is still out there, under the control of someone who doesn’t intend to play nice, but here she is, reaching out to him. She doesn’t know how much this means to him. She barely knows him, but that’s just it: Natasha knows the legends as well as anyone, but she’s approached him as a stranger, just a man with a name. </p><p>“Something’s come up on the scanners.” An agent bursts through the door and runs into the training room, ignoring the other agents and coming right over. He gives a respectful nod, trying not to stare at Steve’s huge chest packed into his tight shirt. “Agent Romanoff, Captain. Director Fury is looking for you. They’ve found a match.” </p><p>Natasha’s eyes flash and she nods. “Where?” she’s already striding toward the change rooms where they’ve left their normal clothes. </p><p>“Germany,” the agent explains, following. “You... might want to suit up.” </p><p>Steve makes eye contact with Natasha, and she nods at him, then at the agent. “We’ll be right up.” The agent takes his leave and Natasha grabs Steve’s arm, leading him hurriedly out of the gym. They run through the halls in their bare feet, Steve in some borrowed jogging pants and a shirt at least one size too small, and Natasha in her black tank top, the muscles in her back rippling as she runs. Her concern for her missing friend shines brightly through. </p><p>The spy doesn’t say a word until they’re back in Steve’s room, and she’s throwing open the wardrobe. Inside is a suit, shining blue and white, deep red pushing through. It’s brighter than his old suit, but the motifs are the same. Steve reaches in and unhooks the main pieces from the hangers, holding them up. Made of a thinner Kevlar mesh, he can see this suit is a lot tighter than his old one. There’s a lot more red... And a cowl, too, intended to protect all the way around his neck and attach under the helmet. The whole thing looks uncomfortable. He runs his fingers across the clean, shiny silver star on the chest, despite the urgency. He needs to suit up, get out there, follow orders and do what’s required of him, but he’s stalling. </p><p>A small hand lands on his arm, and Natasha appears by his shoulder, gently taking the suit from him and folding it back up. She makes a neat stack and pushed it back into the closet by the boots, gloves, belt, and helmet Steve can see inside. “Maybe another time,” she suggests softly, nudging aside some spare clothes that have been put there for him – plain shirts, jeans, some jogging pants. Natasha shuffles along the hangers and pulls out something else, handing it over. </p><p>It’s black, made of similar material but a bit thicker and less like a leotard. Steve holds it up, pleased to find it’s another suit, dark like Natasha’s TAC suit. The star is a mere outline in black, and there are a few stripes down the belly, but they’re only a slightly darker grey than the rest of the material. There’s a SHIELD emblem on the shoulder guards, the accompanying gloves and boots much more sensible in design. Natasha hands them over along with a helmet, and a belt, staring kindly up at him and searching deep into his eyes and posture. </p><p>Steve smiles back sadly, gathering everything in his arms. “Thanks. I... just don’t think I’m ready. Not yet.” </p><p>Natasha quirks an eyebrow, and her smile melts into something more amused. “You can blame Coulson for that monstrosity,” she nudges the closet doors shut and thumbs over her shoulder with regard to the suit left inside. “He was so excited, insisted that you get a new suit. I knew it would probably be a disaster and had Fury get you this instead. Star-spangled isn’t always practical you know.” </p><p>“No, it isn’t,” Steve feels his own smile become more cheerful with both amusement and gratitude. “Thank you, Natasha.” </p><p>“Get dressed,” she orders, touching his shoulder as she passes. “Then I have something for you.” Before he can ask, she’s waggling her fingers at him and slipping out, the doors sliding shut behind her. </p><p>Steve stares around the room as he set his new uniform on the bed and unbuttons his shirt. It’s a modest two-room space: a bathroom and bedroom. The door is ajar, and there’s a small shower with a sliding glass door inside. The bed itself is quite small as well, but furnished with blankets and pillows. It’s nicer than what he had before the serum, and nicer than many places he stayed during the war. There’s even a small desk and chair in the corner where he could sit and have a meal or do some paperwork if he wanted. Steve doubts he’ll spend much time here anyway, but he’s grateful to have a place that’s his while aboard. </p><p>In many ways, it’s better than his apartment, because despite the lack of shelves covered in books and old photographs, it’s embedded in the helicarrier. He’s a part of something here, and not so isolated. His apartment feels like a pocket zipped apart from the rest of the world, but this at least feels like he has a purpose. Even if that purpose may be to wear a skin that’s no longer his. </p><p>This suit feels odd. Steve’s never dressed in all black before, but it feels like a clean slate brushed with a shadow of his old self. A place to start, a sketch to build a drawing over, though it may get lost entirely by the end of it. That’s alright. Captain America isn’t the same man he was. Steve hopes that will be enough. He takes ownership of this new outfit, doing up all the straps and buckles with purpose. He slides his feet into the heavy combat boots, and tightens the strong leather gloves around his wrists. His utility belt goes around his waist, and his helmet tucked under his arm. Then, he’s ready to go out and face the world. They need him, he knows that, but will they accept him like this? Without the red, white, and blue? It’s a little nerve-wracking. </p><p>His legs are quivering, and something is stirring in his gut, but his anxiety is quelled at the sight of Natasha waiting outside his door, dressed in her combat suit too. She looks him up and down and nods with approval. “Lookin’ good Rogers, suits you. Now come on.” She hands him a box, and he takes an earpiece out of it. </p><p>“Thanks,” he pushes it into his ear and follows her with sure strides. </p><p>“That’s not your present,” she replies, shaking her head. </p><p>Steve frowns, unsure what to expect. He certainly didn’t expect presents at all. </p><p>Natasha catches a glimpse of his puzzled expression and laughs at him, turning a corner and leading up some steps to the next deck. Other agents pass by, trying not to stare. Their eyes are filled with mixtures of awe and confusion, and Steve tries not to feel self-conscious or anxious. His fills out his chest and the star over it swells. He’s still Captain America, just... </p><p>Just. It would help to know exactly how he’s changed if he knew himself better, knew what he wants to be. But maybe he doesn’t have to decide right away. </p><p>There are some things he does know that he wants, though, a few personal checkpoints that have always guided him since the day he was born. Natasha reminds him of those values, of what anchors him and drives him when she gives him her gift. They’re in a dark room used for high-security storage. She flicks on the light and leads him to a cabinet, unlocking it with her access code and sliding out a big round case, which she lays on a shelf beside them. She flicks the clasps and opens the lid, and his shield gleams from inside. There isn’t a scratch or a scuff on it. Steve steps forward and runs his fingers over it. The uniform was always a bit of a gimmick, a skin to please the people he served, but this shield is him. It’s his desire to fight and protect, his resilience. It’s unchanged, and that’s reassuring. So many things have changed since he went into the ice, which isn’t always a bad thing, but it’s good to find a constant. There are some things he doesn’t want to ever change. </p><p>Natasha pulls a harness from under the shield, handing it over. Steve takes it and works the leather straps around his shoulders, tightening them until the magnet is resting between his shoulder blades. The spy steps back, and Steve picks his shield from the cut foam. The vibranium disk is just as light as ever, the paint flawless. The straps have been improved since he last held it in 1945. He slides his arm through them and enjoys the familiar weight of his precious shield.  </p><p>Natasha’s watching him with approval. “Come on, Steve. The world won’t save itself.” </p><p>No, it won’t. Steve smiles and nods affirmatively, sliding his shield off his arm and snapping it to his back. He tilts his chin higher. </p><p>Fury is patiently waiting for them on the bridge. He turns from his monitors, and one flick of his eye is all it takes for him to absorb whatever information he needs from Steve’s appearance. Whatever thoughts he has on it, he doesn’t say them with his mouth or his expression, plunging instead to business. “Our new friend is in Stuttgart causing a stir. Romanoff, take Rogers and the jet. Stark is already on his way.” </p><p>Natasha nods and turns away, Steve on her heels.  </p><p>“Rogers,” Fury stalls him with a hand on his arm. Steve turns to face the director. “Be careful. He’s stronger than you’re used to.” </p><p>Steve nods his head. “So am I, sir.” He won’t be reckless, but he’s willing to bet this alien hasn’t ever fought a super soldier before, even a super soldier that’s out of practice. </p><p>Super soldiers are never <em> really </em> out of practice. Not the way normal people know it. Despite being frozen for sixty-six years, it didn’t take long for Steve’s body to recover. It’s been a while since he’s been in a proper fight, but his senses haven’t dulled any. They <em> can’t </em> dull. The serum won’t allow it. So he’s ready. That round with Natasha was the perfect warm-up, and though he knows he still has a lot to learn, he also knows that he can hold his own. <em> Steady Rogers, never fought an alien before.  </em> </p><p><em> There’s a first for everything, right? Time to get out and see the world. </em> </p><p>Fury just sighs and lets him go, and Steve strides off with Natasha, eager to see what they’ll find in Stuttgart. He walks across the runway, and up the ramp into a jet. The spy is already firing up the engines, a handful of other agents gearing up in the back. Steve sits on a bench to wait, holding his helmet in his lap and ignoring the others. His new helmet is very light, but he can feel that it’s stronger. There are small grey wings drawn on the sides, but that’s all for adornment. No ‘A’ on the forehead. A few glances are tossed his way, but the agents leave him alone as they get strapped in to fly.  </p><p>Soon, they’re in the air and Natasha is leaving her seat to come sit beside him. She puts her hands in her lap and plays with her fingers, staring stoically ahead. </p><p>Someone has taken her friend. Steve nudges his thigh into hers. He doesn’t know her tells, but he can see clearly that she’s concerned. He decides not to call her out on it in front of these other agents though, sliding his helmet on instead and turning to face her. “What do you think?” he does up the chinstrap and smiles. </p><p>Natasha looks up at him and smiles back. “Not bad. How does it feel?” </p><p>“Fits good,” Steve agrees. Actually, his whole suit is a good fit. It’s a bit stiff, but he’ll break it in. </p><p>One of the other agents hands Natasha a gun and knife in their holsters, and she takes them by the straps, presenting them. “Maybe you should gear up,” she suggests. </p><p>“All I need is this,” he assures. He’s not sure he wants to hold a gun or a blade just yet. </p><p>“Steve... You don’t know what you’re up against,” she warns. “None of us do.” </p><p>She’s right. Steve sighs and takes them from her, snapping the gun to his thigh, and the knife to the other. He doesn’t have to use them. </p><p>The landing ramp whooshes open, and Iron Man flies in, landing on the deck. The doors close again, and his helmet loosens. Tony pulls it off and shakes out his hair, walking nonchalantly past the other agents. Steve stands to meet the inventor, Nat at his side. “Stark,” he greets.  </p><p>“Sorry, I let myself in,” Tony isn’t sorry at all. He ignores the others and looks Steve up and down. “On your way to a funeral, Spangles?” </p><p>Steve scowls and decides not to pick up on that particular remark. “I thought you were flying ahead.” </p><p>“I was, but then I thought hey, teamwork and all that good stuff,” Tony slides his helmet onto a shelf and leans against it casually. “So. What’s the plan?” </p><p>Steve realizes all eyes are on him. They’re asking <em> him </em> for a plan. Whoever he is, he’s good at plans. That much he knows. He sets his jaw. “We don’t really know what we’re up against, so we need to be careful. We can’t run in guns blazing. We need to find out how strong he is. Natasha, I need you in the sky in case we need to make chase. Keep your guns ready. Stark, I need you on my six. I can keep him away from civilians and size him up, and you be ready to shoot.” </p><p>“With pleasure,” Tony gives a loose salute. “Sure you wanna swing fists with this guy Cap? I mean, maybe I’m better suited,” he gestures to his actual suit. </p><p>“I don’t have the same mobility you do,” Steve replies. “You can aim from above.” </p><p>“Fair play,” Tony agrees with surprising ease. </p><p>“And we’re shooting to apprehend, not kill,” Steve iterates. “We don’t know what this guy wants.” </p><p>“Seems like he wants trouble to me,” Tony retorts with a shrug. </p><p>“I guess we’ll find out.” Steve can’t deny that this is less than ideal. Crazy, probably, but what choice do they have? Who else will fight aliens if not them? </p><p>The SHIELD jet is fast, and in no time at all they’re heading in. Natasha takes her place back in the cockpit, and Steve checks his weapons, waiting by the ramp next to Tony. The inventor puts on his helmet and turns to look at him with glowing blue slits. “Want a lift?” </p><p>“Sure,” Steve agrees, and Tony takes his arm in a gauntleted hand. </p><p>“Then hang on.” </p><p>Steve wraps his arm around Tony’s armored waist, preparing himself for the drop, and for what awaits them at the bottom. He can already feel his body preparing itself for a fight, his heart pumping faster and adrenaline helping to focus his mind. The serum works like a gearbox to shift an idle engine into gear, and as the fuel to allow it to generate power.  </p><p>“Get ready boys,” Natasha warns, and the landing ramp creaks as it opens into the night sky. “I’d hurry if I were you. I’ve got heat signatures moving around like crazy.” </p><p>Steve nods gratefully, then hangs on as Tony leaps out of the jet. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Exams are all done, yay!</p><p>The confrontation begins. I look forward to your feedback, as always, and thank you for your support (again, as always &lt;33). Stay safe!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The party is ruined. A gala of some kind, Steve surmises by the lavish and expensive outfits worn by the men and women screaming as they run from the building. Steve sets his boots on the ground and moves in the opposite direction. At least the trouble will be easy to locate.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Stark, get me an aerial view,” Steve orders, breaking into a jog in the direction of the entrance.</span>
  
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  <span>“On it,” Tony is already several feet above, scanning the courtyard while Nat circles the whole perimeter in the jet.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>People shove and scream, but Steve keeps pushing through, searching through the chaos for a sight of their alien friend. Wherever he is, he’s lost in the crowd, or already left with what he came for. Steve dreads what that might be. </span>
  <em>
    <span>An attack in plain sight... Either someone made a mistake, or this is just about the best distraction anyone could dream of. Perfect for escaping, too.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “Watch the perimeter!” Steve calls over the earpiece as he pauses and scans every person racing past him.</span>
  
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  <span>The others must share his suspicions, because the jet flies around behind the building, and Tony goes off to do some scans of his own at closer quarters. “JARVIS, get me into every camera within a ten-kilometer radius of this place. Scan for the SHIELD agents and the alien.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve keeps looking, making sure that everyone who runs by is at least safe. Is everyone alright? “Stand-by to call emergency services.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Like clouds vaporizing to reveal a bright midnight moon, the alien is suddenly there, right in front of him, where he hadn’t been a moment before. And he’s huge, a few inches taller than Steve, and built like a brick house. There’s a golden staff in his hand, a blue gem embedded in the curved, pointed end. How had the soldier missed him? He’s a pillar, rising above the crowds and parting them as they scramble to avoid him. “Eyes on the target,” Steve adjusts his gait and slowly draws his shield off his back, sizing up his new opponent, who is in-turn doing the same.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Like a blonde-haired panther, the alien attacks, his eyes cold and blue and focused, one cut across with a faint scar. Steve raises his shield, and the punch that hits it actually pushes him back a pace or two, though the </span>
  <span>vibranium</span>
  <span> absorbs most of the force of impact. Undeterred, the alien draws back </span>
  <span>bare</span>
  <span> arms roped in muscle and leaps, turning from the hips and easily swinging his heel over the lip of the shield to head height. Steve barely ducks in time, poking his head sideways around the shield and keeping his eyes on the target at all times. The spear swings at his heels, and he has to roll backwards on his shoulders. He straightens, just as the alien whips his heel into the shield. The disk is flung sideways away from his body, and Steve has to bend backward and land his weight on a hand to avoid getting his ribs crushed by a follow-up kick. The spear stabs for him, and with core strength alone, he brings his legs over his head and escapes an impaling.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Fury wasn’t kidding about this guy being stronger and faster than a normal agent. His style is efficient. Human punches don’t do much against Captain America, but these will probably crack bone if he lets them hit full-on. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>At least the civilians are smart enough to give the pair some space, fanning out. Many have fled, but some are standing to watch now, awed and terrified. Steve doesn’t have time to tell them to flee – he can’t turn his back or lose focus for a moment. The alien won’t let him, is too fast and skilled to afford Steve the chance to split his attention.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Well, Captain America can leap and spin too. The alien is already noticing this enemy won’t be the same as others he’s fought, some confusion in his </span>
  <span>hard blue</span>
  <span> eyes. Steve runs at him, sliding the shield off his arm and flinging it straight into the ground. It didn’t take him long to get good at throwing it after he’d first gotten it, something he’s rather proud of. The serum allows him to plot the course of the disk in a second, even while planning his next move. The shield is whizzing off as he runs at the alien and turns to aim shoulder-first. The alien swipes out with precise strikes. Steve dodges the spear strike, blocks the punch with his forearm, and turn, ducking his head under a muscled arm. He can tell by that one blow that this man is stronger than he is. That’s why he has to be clever. His shield bounces off a lamp post and strikes the alien in the back, giving Steve the chance to wrap his arms around the alien’s and drop forward, throwing his enemy over his shoulder and into the stone.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>A few strands of blonde hair have come loose of the tight ponytail when the alien stands, but that’s the only trace of damage on him, the only trace of strain. He’s already bunching his legs and jumping forward. Steve sinks into his stance and twists at the waist, ripping his shield around and clocking the alien in the head with a loud clang. The alien rolls sideways, and Steve hops backward on the balls of his feet. When his enemy gets to his feet, shakes his head, and pounces, Steve rolls on his shield to avoid the blow. They move past each other and stop, rising to face off again. There’s static in the air as the people watch. Steve has his shield, but this alien is the better warrior, and the stronger one. He can take the full strength of Captain America.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve needs to get more shots in and go on the offensive if he has any hope of slowing this guy down. He’s going to need Stark’s backup, when Tony </span>
  <em>
    <span>does</span>
  </em>
  <span> get here... The Captain snaps his shield to his back and lifts all his weight into the balls of his feet, all his muscles tense and ready to move as fast as he can manage. The alien spins his spear in a light grip, muscles leaping under skin-tight fabrics, gold accents gleaming under the streetlights. The pointed tip of the weapon strikes out, and Steve dodges with a spins, turning straight into the alien’s chest. He gets his arms around the golden shaft and flings his body over the alien’s arm before the enemy can grab him. The soldier wraps his bulk around the alien’s arm and drops, twisting with deadly force. The torsion would have snapped a human arm, probably ripped it out of its socket, the way Steve uses all his bulk and momentum against it. But the alien only grits his teeth as he’s brought down from the shoulder. The spear falls out of his grip, and he’s flipped onto his shoulders with a crunch.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>That’s the stone crunching. Steve keeps rolling, not daring to let go of the arm in his custody now that he has it. He kicks the spear out of reach and digs his knee into the alien’s chest, yanking the arm upward by the wrist and delivering a strong punch into the man’s jaw. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The alien growls, the first sound he’s made so far. His square face twists with pain and he rips his arm free of the soldier’s grip in one tug. Then he grabs Steve by his shield straps and flips them, returning the punch.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve is certain that if he hadn’t just twisted the alien’s punching arm, and hadn’t dodged to take a glancing blow instead, that fist would have gone through his face. It’d have shattered his eye socket, that’s for damn sure. Steve gets to his feet, as does the alien, who’s shaking out his arm and preparing for another attack with his bare hands. A bruise is blossoming on the alien’s jaw, but Steve is going to have to hit much harder than that to win. He draws his shield again, and ignores the ache in his own cheekbone. The alien is going to hit harder too.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The alien does, attacking with more vigor than before. He can move with such speed and precision that Steve actually struggles to keep up as he’s slowly pushed back one step at a time. </span>
  <span>Bare</span>
  <span> arms bash against the edge of his shield, punches striking the metal, the hitter unbothered by hitting something so hard so powerfully, even with his gloved hands. Those gloves look like they’re more meant for grip than impact protection anyway. Steve dodges and ducks, trying to avoid even a glancing blow if he can, taking everything with his shield while he searches for an opening. He drops and makes a swipe for the alien’s legs, but the alien sees it coming, impossibly, and smashes Steve to the stone with an axe kick to his shield. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve goes down, the blow insufficient to disorient him, but enough to throw off his momentum. He moves quickly, but the alien is already grabbing the shield and yanking it off his arm, lifting him up by the harness. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>There is no joy in the alien’s eyes. He takes no pleasure in holding Steve off the ground, then flipping him and throwing him to the ground shoulders first. In fact, he seems more frustrated than anything. Mixed with a few other emotions, it’s one of the oddest expressions Steve’s ever seen an adversary wear. He doesn’t get much chance to take it in, because he has to tuck in his head so it doesn’t bounce off the ground. The blow to his shoulders is enough to knock the wind out of him, and the alien looms over, drawing a knife from his belt.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Something whizzes behind the alien, lights flashing so brightly Steve winces. The alien stumbles, blaster shots striking him in the back from Tony’s repulsors. The alien whirls and around, but Tony twists out of reach and jets up. From this angle, Steve can see the shots did little more than scorch the alien’s uniform.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Natasha appears at Steve’s side and takes his hand, pulling him to his feet. Without a word, she climbs him like a ladder and perches on his shoulders. He drops his head, and she leaps off him like an acrobat, landing on the alien’s back and wrapping her legs around his neck while he’s distracted by Iron Man. The Black Widow jams her fists into his neck and the air crackles with electricity as she shocks him under the jaw. The alien claws at her, unbothered by her weight, but stumbling from the jolts. It’s actually affecting him. Steve abandons his shield and lunges, amalgamating himself with the tangle of limbs and taking one of the alien’s arms prisoner before it can be used to harm Natasha. Tony drops out of the sky and grabs the other, and together they wrestle the alien while Nat shocks him relentlessly.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>She can’t generate enough power. “I need more!” she calls. “Stark!”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Left my taser at home!” Tony yells back. “J, lend a hand!” The suit responds, panels lifting and sliding over each other as the thrusters try to help Tony keep the arm where he wants it. Steve in turn digs his heels into the stone and summons all of his strength.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The three of them aren’t enough to hang on, and Natasha’s stingers aren’t enough to incapacitate the alien. That’s alright. The sky splits, rainbow light spearing down from as high up as they can see. It ruptures the night, and what few civilians remaining draw backward with cries. Even the alien in their grasp freezes momentarily before struggling again, but his gaze is fixed on the light. </span>
  <em>
    <span>All</span>
  </em>
  <span> their gazes are fixed on it. A shadow emerges, the light dies, and in the smoking circle of runes and the swirl of embers stands a man dressed in green and gold. Gold horns curl out of his helmet, and he walks toward their four locked bodies, holding out his hand.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The alien snaps and growls, trying to bend back from the newcomer’s probing fingers, but Natasha squeezes her legs tighter and jams her stingers into his temples instead. The alien seizes and arches, and though the newcomer stalls, he doesn’t stop. He keeps reaching, presses his fingers to the alien’s forehead, and a burst of light flows out. With one last resistant growl and the hint of a word about to come free, the alien sags. His eyes roll back into his head and he drops forward. Natasha untangles herself and pushes free while the others let go, and they all stand back to watch as their foe collapses face-first into the stone. A heaved breath, and he’s completely still.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You killed him,” Tony starts to walk toward the newcomer. “What the hell? You killed him!”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The newcomer snaps his gaze from the form on the ground, anger burning away something sadder. A long staff appears in his hand in a shimmer of gold, and he rests the tip against Iron Man’s reactor threateningly. “I have not killed him,” the man grits out, “only put him to sleep, for now. Though clearly you were doing fine without me.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>With a hiss and a frustrated gesture, Tony pulls off his helmet and smacks aside the spear. “Who do you think you are?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Steve steps in, taking Tony’s shoulder and nudging the inventor back. He holds up his other hand to satiate the newcomer. Natasha picks up the alien’s spear and stands over the body, prepared to lunge and start zapping again, exchanging glances with their new playmate. Steve pleads with his hands. “Okay, everybody </span>
  <span>cool</span>
  <span> it. Tony, go made sure the civilians are safe, please? And make sure emergency services are coming?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Tony scowls and stomps off, pushing his helmet back on and flying up to get a better vantage of the carnage. The fight seems to be over, though Steve doubts that whatever plan this alien was involved in ends with him – there must be more men. Maybe not right here, but somewhere nearby.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Now they’ve got a new player to deal with, but Steve doesn’t think he’s part of this alien’s plan. But he won’t risk it, and play is safe all the same. He turns to Natasha. “Get the jet down here,” he orders, and she nods, walking off to clear a space for the craft. Steve fixes his attention on the newcomer. “We need to take him,” he indicates the body with a nudge of his head. “He took some of our friends, and we can’t get them back without him.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The newcomer juggles that in his head and on his face, and Steve gives him the time to think it over. Finally, the staff vanishes in a flash of gold, along with the horned helmet and other adornments. With a flourish, the man bears a pair of intricate-looking cuffs, his expression unreadable. “You will need these, then. And I’m coming.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve’s not sure what he’s agreeing to, but he nods, knowing he has little choice. This man could whisk their prisoner away with little the rest of them could do to stop him. And if they have any hope of holding this alien, someone with half a clue how to handle someone that strong might be handy. Steve can feel the ache in his face from those punches. The newcomer gets to his knee beside the fallen alien and pulls muscle-roped arms behind his back, cuffing his wrists. The cuffs whir and click, pieces turning and locking firmly in place. They look strong, far stronger than flimsy steel cuffs. He hopes they’ll hold. The last thing they need in a rampant alien let loose in an </span>
  <span>airborne</span>
  <span> jet.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>--</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Natasha joins the others in the back, and they gather around the slumped form of the alien sitting on the bench. The rest of the agents have given them plenty of space, wary of the two new passengers who definitely aren’t human.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Midgard is much different than I remember...” the newcomer sighs, sat on the bench beside their prisoner and staring up at the other three surrounding him. He casts a weary, sorrowful gaze at the blonde slumped beside him. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re going to need some details before we let you come with us,” Natasha speaks, and Steve is happy to let her do the talking. He holds his ground and glances over at Tony. At least the inventor doesn’t look about to do anything ill-advised, but he’s shifting his weight in his suit, uneasy with the presence of these strangers.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The newcomer lifts his chin and sits straight. “I am Loki, King of Asgard, and this is my brother, Thor.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah right,” Tony scoffs, looking between both men – they look completely different in every way, from hair and skin tone, to build.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Adopted,” Loki contains himself, but his tone holds traces of venom. “Regardless, he is my family, and I have come to take him home, that is all.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Not before we get some answers out of him,” Natasha replies calmly. “He’s stolen some valuable items and some of our friends, and we need to stop whatever he has planned.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Loki scoffs and looks away, staring at his brother’s drooping head, then at his feet, then finally back up. His gaze is lost. He shakes his head. “It will not take me long to retrieve this information from him. As soon as you have what you need, I will take him. My brother was never much of a mastermind.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve thinks on that sentiment. If he were to guess, he wouldn’t have made that assumption on his own. The look in Thor’s eyes was too calculating. Good tacticians are often good on and off the battlefield, and Thor’s combat technique goes beyond excellent. He frowns to himself.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe you can tell us why he’s here,” Natasha is continuing. “What does he want with the tesseract?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve can’t imagine anything good. He doesn’t even believe that SHIELD had it for good reasons. A long time ago, he tried to think the best of people, but that’s become much harder.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I cannot begin to guess,” Loki growls back. “Last I saw him was one hundred years ago. He has changed.” Anger fades back into sorrow in the constant battle between the two. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>One </span>
  <em>
    <span>would</span>
  </em>
  <span> change in a hundred years. Steve doesn’t even notice himself nodding slowly. Sixty-six years spent frozen in time, unconscious, and he still came out the other side a different man before he even began to live his life again.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“And you don’t know anything else?” Natasha pries, her tone albeit a shade gentler.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing of these events,” Loki shakes his head and sighs. At least now they have a name.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>--</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>A name is hardly anything to go by. </span>
  <span>Of course</span>
  <span> it’s not enough for Fury, who sets to grilling Loki the second everyone is off the jet and back inside the </span>
  <span>helicarrier</span>
  <span>. Loki calmly carries his brother over his shoulder and walks along with the rest of them, ignoring strange looks from agents that pass, and answering all of Fury’s questions without breaking stride or giving a shred of ground, like he owns the place. Like a king.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>When Fury doesn’t get what he wants, he falls back and matches pace with the other three. “Who let this man on my helicarrier?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve keeps walking. He doesn’t have anything new to give the director either. None of them do. “His name is Loki, sir. And we had no choice. The target was too strong.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“We had him pinned, and it wasn’t enough,” Natasha agrees. “He just wouldn’t go down. We need Loki to contain him.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ll see how he likes Hulk’s cage,” Fury retorts. “And you expect me to let this Loki walk out with him when we decides he’s done?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Frankly, Steve’s a little surprised that hasn’t happened already. “He’s agreed to let us get the information we need first,” he explains, and it sounds more than fair to him.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Even Fury knows there’s little choice, he’s understandably irate. The director doesn’t like interference from other parties, especially ones with unknown objectives. Is Loki an enemy or a friend? If whatever plan Thor had in mind, would Loki help them stop it and protect Earth, or would he protect his brother instead? And what if he decides he’s had enough, and takes his brother home before SHIELD can get what they need? There are too many unknowns.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>For </span>
  <span>now</span>
  <span> though, Loki is here to help, carrying him into the large glass cylinder that will be Thor’s cage for as long as the interrogation takes. Loki sets his brother on the floor and backs out, staring through the door as it slides shut and separates them. Fury steps forward and opens his mouth, but Loki holds up his hand to silence the director, still staring into the cage at his brother sprawled on the floor, hands still bound behind his back, face turned away from them. “You will have all the answers I can give in due time,” Loki says evenly, an edge of warning creeping into his tone. “For now, I would like some time with my brother.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Forgive me if I don’t roll over and expose my belly right away,” Fury replies unwaveringly. “But this is my vessel, and my men are out there. Time is not something we have.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Loki snaps his head around, his glare challenging. “This is my brother, who has been presumed dead for a hundred years. </span>
  <span>So</span>
  <span> if you could kindly give us a mere few minutes, that would be much appreciated. If that is too much for you, I would be more than happy to set him loose on your ship and return to Asgard, and see how you fare without me.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Fury is actually rendered speechless, closing his mouth and offering a curt nod. He turns and strides away, gesturing for the others to follow. Tony recedes after him to the sound of his metal boots on the grating. Natasha isn’t far behind. Steve pauses a moment, but there’s nothing he can think to say or do, so he turns away and walks after the others.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>When they’re far enough away, Fury turns to address them. “Bring the scepter to Banner,” he orders, handing the case to Steve. “Find out what you can.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve nods, glad to have a task to occupy himself with. He doesn’t like feeling purposeless. Fury leaves them to head for the bridge, and Natasha takes the lead. The trio falls silent. Steve can only guess what his friends are thinking about. Reasonably, he imagines Natasha’s worried about Barton. Her posture is stiff, though she hides her anxiety well, so well that even when she’s not trying to hide it the signs are subtle. Doctor Banner’s lab is a welcome sanctuary, and they all visibly loosen to be inside. The doors close, the doctor looks up, and now there’s work to help temper rising tensions.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Tony steps out of his suit and leaves it standing sentry by the wall, wandering over to meet the scientist with a grin. Doctor Banner takes off his glasses and shuffles around his workbench. “Hi guys,” he rubs the bridge of his nose somewhat awkwardly, letting Tony shake his hand vigorously.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve hands over the case. “Doctor,” he greets. “How’s work going?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Bruce takes the case and brushes some implements out of the way, flipping open the lid. “You’d think tracing an alien cube capable of generating one-hundred gigawatts per hour would be easy...”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s why we’ve got the world’s top gamma expert in the world working on it,” Tony claps the scientist on the shoulder, and they all stare into the case.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The scepter glows faintly, the gem embedded in the spearhead pulsing faintly with power as if it’s alive. That’s no decorative crystal, Steve will say that. There’s a faint sense of a fifth person in the room, and they can all feel it; Natasha’s balancing her weight between her feet, and Tony is fiddling slowly with some kind of tool he’s picked up from Banner’s workbench. The doctor himself as staring in silence at the scepter as if he’s forgotten where they are, and what he’s doing.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve snaps out of it first. “Can you use it, doctor Banner?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm?” Bruce looks up. “Oh, yes, I think so. Tony, would you get that computer set up for me please? We can take some readings and maybe hone our search.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you need anything else?” Steve asks hopefully.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The doctor just shakes his head. “I don’t think so. We’ll let you know if we do.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>As much as that’s disappointing to hear, Steve nods understandably. Natasha is taking his wrist though, leading him for the door. They wave goodbye, and she takes him into the hallway, expression determined. “I can think of something,” she suggests. “Let’s do some digging of our own.” Smiling faintly, he follows, leaving their genius scientist companions to get on with things. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Knowing exactly where she’s going, the spy takes him through the helicarrier. In a few minutes, she’s letting them both into an empty meeting room, setting a stack of supplies on the table and tossing him an ice pack. He catches it and frowns.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Your face,” she lifts an eyebrow and indicates her cheek.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve mirrors her gesture on his own face and feels the heat radiating off his cheekbone before he even touches the swollen skin. The bruise has fully developed, and will be gone by the end of the day, but he has to admit it’s tender. He undoes the clasp on his helmet and pulls it off, ruffling his hair. Next goes the shield, which he rests against his chair before sitting in it. He sets his helmet on the table and presses the ice pack into his eye socket. That does feel better.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Figured we could do some research while we wait,” Natasha slides him some paper and a computer tablet, and sits in a chair beside him.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve draws the tablet to him and powers it on, staring at the screen, then back at his friend. “Does SHIELD have anything in their database?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“They have a bit on the tesseract,” she shrugs, tapping on her screen and leaning back in her chair. She puts her boots on the table and raises her eyebrows at him. “But we can always do what most people do when they want to know something, which is Google it. You’ve used Google, right?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, I have used Google,” Steve confirms flatly.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“And who wouldn’t pay good money to know Captain America’s search history?” Natasha smirks, turning her gaze back to her screen. She leans it against her thighs and starts to type on the digital keypad.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing exciting,” Steve huffs in reply, finding the apps menu and choosing the color ‘G’ logo. “The weather, the news.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Brooklyn, old streets and businesses that used to be on them, Peggy Carter, Howard Stark, Tony Stark, the second world war, subsequent wars, historical fiction novels, popular novels, popular movies, popular music - </span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Natasha doesn’t believe him. “No porn? Come on, Rogers, there’s a lot more world to see than you’re used to. We’ve come a long way.” No, no porn. Steve blushes and shakes his head, and Natasha smirks at his tomato color. “Okay, fair enough.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>It’s been a while since he’s had someone to hang out with. This is still work, but it’s nice. He feels at ease. Steve loosens his uniform too, leaving his gloves on the table and unzipping his suit to his sternum. Then he stares at the blinking cursor awaiting him in the empty search bar. Where on Earth </span>
  <span>does</span>
  <span> he </span>
  <span>start</span>
  <span>?</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>‘Tesseract’, maybe. He taps the search bar, and a keyboard pops up. Google doesn’t have much to offer for that particular search, nothing extra on top of what SHIELD databases contain, and of course what Steve already knows from experience. He tables that topic for now and instead types in ‘Thor’. This is slightly more informative, in that there is a lot of information, but most of it doesn’t agree.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve clicks link after link, powering through webpages seconds at a time. His brain can process mass amounts of information and retain it for later. In a few minutes he’s gone through the first page of search results. The only thing the internet can seem to agree on is that ‘Thor’ comes from Norse mythology. The name is imbedded in texts as old as 8</span>
  <span>th</span>
  <span> century, probably older, with ‘Loki’ typically appearing alongside his brother.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>But something isn’t right. Thor is typically depicted with his weapon of choice, a hammer, in-hand. According to old Norse myth, he’s the God of Thunder, and Loki the God of Mischief. In all the resources Steve can find, it’s Loki who’s portrayed as the villain, and Thor the hero of those legends he’s written in. Some of those legends are dated back to centuries ago, which means that either these two brothers have some interesting namesakes, or both of them are over a thousand years old at least, and have some explaining to do.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>People change. A thousand years is a long time, and Loki said it himself that Thor has been gone for a hundred (still a long time, thank you very much), so the people they were a hundred, a thousand years ago, and who they are now, may not reflect their glorified selves in these old tales. Steve know what it’s like to have tales told of you that often feel like a character instead of who you really are. Steve Rogers is </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> Captain America from the posters, just like Thor and Loki aren’t the same these colorful personalities written about in old legends. And just like him, they’re more.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>So</span>
  <span> what happened, and what do they trust? These old texts, or Loki’s word? Neither, maybe – Loki could be the same scheming trickster described by the Norse, and he could be in on Thor’s plan. But from what Steve can tell, that’s not the case. He saw genuine distress in Loki’s eyes, for what his brother has become. What Thor was like a hundred years ago, Steve can’t say, but he does know that he’s not who Loki expected to find. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>These are all just speculations, ones Steve can’t begin to unravel until he spends more time with both brothers. There is nothing to write, no information he feels good about documenting as if to present it as fact. People can’t be learned about that way. They can’t be known from stories, ballads, poems, and texts.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Research moves on though. It’s incredible how quickly one can get lost down the online rabbit hole, but in the end it’s what leads him to something useful. </span>
  <span>First</span>
  <span> he clicks the highlighted word ‘Mjolnir’ on the Wikipedia page he’s reading, which leads him to another page about Thor’s hammer. To his surprise, there’s a link at the bottom of the ‘contents’ list which reads ‘recent sightings’. Frowning, he reads the section.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>In a small town in New Mexico, Fall of 1912, some townspeople claimed to have seen a beam of rainbow light strike down from the heavens one night. There are accounts of a hammer that no-one could lift in the outskirts, and a man who called himself Thor arriving suddenly to that small town. Most of this information appears to come from a couple who housed the man for a couple of weeks.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>There are links to other sources imbedded in the blurb, and they take him to old news sites, sites dedicated to alien sightings and conspiracy theories, and galleries composed simply of old photographs. The first link takes him to a webpage hosting scans of old newspapers, and a warm spark of nostalgia flares in his chest. Steve skims the print, but this story isn’t much more than gossip. The last part, however, gives details of a battle between Thor and another creature, seemingly from space as well. The story described a metal beast that shot fire from its face, and destroyed most of the town. But Thor had called his hammer, the one no-body could lift, and transformed from an ordinary-looking man into a red-cloaked knight in a flash of lightning. The beast was defeated, and Thor had gone, presumably, back to his home in the stars, never to be seen or heard from again.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The alien sighting website is a bit more descriptive. It talks about the metal monster, how it looked like a person. It describes the rainbow light and the mark it burned into the ground, citing journal </span>
  <span>entries</span>
  <span> from curious citizens. There aren’t many photographs, mostly representative drawings done recently by people trying to piece everything together. There are drawings of the burned ring, meticulously recreating all the symbols. Steve recognizes them from Loki’s arrival. He moves on his next tab, and the bank of photographs brings him back.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He remembers when the world wasn’t paved in screens. He remembers when dressing was simpler, though he has to admit he prefers the softer textures of modern fabrics. His new suit feels stronger, and there aren’t so many buckles. He can wear a breathable shirt for working out. Shoes are better, though he no longer has to worry about collapsed arches and a bad back. There’s something he misses about a cotton shirt and a pair of slacks, though. The page he’s clicked on is number 17 out of over 100, all part of a slideshow of old photos collected from the early 20</span>
  <span>th</span>
  <span> century. One woman is dressed the way his mother used to. Her hair is pulled back, a blouse tucked into a long skirt. Steve imagines powder blues over the sepia tones.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>A few photos down </span>
  <span>is</span>
  <span> the one he’s come here for, one of a young man dressed as most young men in small towns did. The clothes are well-worn, and the man is grooming a horse, strong muscle exposed by rolled-up sleeves. He’s big, the shirt tight around his shoulders, and his pants snug at the thighs. Even with just a profile view of his face, Steve can tell this man is the same one currently locked in a cell aboard the helicarrier.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Same in body, but otherwise...? This man, dressed like a farm-hand, is completely different. He’s smiling softly, long blonde hair cascading over his shoulders, a relaxed and carefree demeanor about him. That is </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>the snarling, angry man dressed a glare just as dark as his clothes, currently held prisoner.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>But then again, is Steve so different? He remembers when he used to be loose in the shoulders like that, when he used to smile like a boy, when he used to be happy even in hard times. Sure, nowadays he feels happiness from time to time, but he’s not </span>
  <em>
    <span>happy.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Not over-all, not deep-down inside where the ice hasn’t thawed. And here he sits, dressed in black, a shadow of himself.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Getting anywhere?” He looks up to see Natasha entering the room, some food in her hands. She must have slipped out while he was focused.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I think so,” Steve slides over his tablet and exchanges it for the packaged comestible Natasha hands him. He frowns at it.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s a twinkie, Rogers. Ever had one?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Course I have,” he rips open the packaging. He’s had a few in his lifetime, though he can’t remember what they were like. </span>
  <span>Obviously,</span>
  <span> that was before the serum, or he’d remember. He takes a bite, and it’s good. It tastes of boxed cake, but it’s still cake, and it’s sweet.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re painfully vanilla,” Natasha remarks amusedly, shaking her head and sliding him some food before sitting down to examine what he’s found and eat her own dinner. She’s brought him a handful more twinkies, along with some oranges and four sandwiches of various kinds.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“There better not be Spam in any of these,” Steve reaches for the nearest sandwich, unwrapping it just as his face unwraps into something more cheerful. The smell of mustard and corned beef wafts up his nose. There’s lots of filling in here: lettuce, onion, tomato, some cheese, and a slice of pickle.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I would expect better from SHIELD,” Natasha snorts. “But we can always find you some if you really want it. I’m sure someone on this ship would be willing to donate some to a worthy cause.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve laughs and takes a bite of sandwich. It’s really good. He swallows. “Thanks.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Natasha waves her hand as she swaps between the </span>
  <span>tabs</span>
  <span> he has open, soaking up the information he’s been collecting. “Nice work,” she commends, smiling up at him. “Your face looks better.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>It certainly feels better. Steve pads his cheeks with careful fingers, pleased to find the swelling has faded to a mild ache, and the warmth in his skin is gone. Another twinkie is in order; Steve decides he’s going to eat all of them as soon as he’s done with his sandwiches. Fighting sure works up an appetite.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>They get back to work while they eat, saving some of what they’ve found to a private folder in the database to show Fury later. It’s a good start, and maybe the best they can do for now. Steve shares his twinkies with Natasha, then they gather up their supplies and gear, zip up their suits, and stride off to check on the scientists.</span>
  
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Finally, some of Thor's perspective.</p><p>Also, some more of that front-zipper appeal B) If you’re interested to see more, I’m currently celebrating 200 Tumblr followers, and I’m taking drawing requests over there! </p><p>Thanks as always, and enjoy &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p>Thanos will be angry. The plan has failed. </p><p><em> Not failed. We can fix this, work around it. There are still options. I’m not finished. Give me another chance. </em> </p><p>Thor cracks open one eye and peers around the room before he dares move. He’s alone, it seems, in this cage at least. This empty glass jar that holds him like a specimen. No-one speaks, no-one moves, but he can hear breathing. One set of lungs is farther away – a guard, he guesses. The other is closer, watching. He can feel eyes on his back. </p><p>“I know you’re awake, brother.” </p><p>He can’t help but tense at the sound of a voice he’s known all his life, one he despises. Thor lifts his cheek off the floor and opens his other eye. With sharp, balanced movements, he’s on his feet, arms still bound behind his back with cuffs he doesn’t bother to test. These are Asgardian cuffs – he knows he won’t be able to break them without some strain. But with a hop, he can get his legs through and bring his wrists in front. That’s what he does, in one neat motion. Weapons, check. Clothes, check. He is as he was before his brother’s spell felled him. That’s his brother standing behind him, waiting with palpable anticipation. Thor doesn’t want to look at him, but that’s not an option; waiting will only bring more proddings. </p><p>Thor turns to face Loki, and his brother looks the same as he always has; long dark hair falls over slender shoulders, intelligent green eyes picking over every detail. Those are even familiar greens and golds adorning his clothes. But his brother’s demeanor has changed: Loki has always been the composed one, difficult to read and always in control, but he looks on the brink of breaking apart now. Glimmers of his true feelings shine through the cracks in his mask of seriousness. His brother actually startles at Thor’s sharp, cold glare, and that is mildly satisfying. </p><p>“Thor...” Loki pauses, leaning back slightly as Thor prowls to the glass with leisurely steps and a laser-focused stare. “Thor, you...” His brother’s eyes roam down to his dark outfit, then back up to his eyes. </p><p>The difference in them is almost imperceptible, but with the scar to draw attention, and Loki’s own discerning gaze, there’s no way his brother hasn’t noticed. <em> Let him stare. </em> Let him wonder. “Loki.” Those are all the words he can muster for his brother. </p><p>Loki frowns, finding his voice. “Thor, you’ve been gone for a whole year! I thought you were dead-” </p><p>“Is that why you didn’t look?” Thor snaps, pounding his fists on the glass. The whole cell creaks threateningly. “Is that why you abandoned me? How long until you gave up hope? The moment I vanished into the abyss?” </p><p>“No! Thor I-” </p><p>“This is your fault,” Thor barks roughly. “I loved you, and I thought you felt the same, but all you cared for was the throne.” </p><p>“That’s not true-!” </p><p>“<em> It is! </em>" Thor screams, rage bubbling in his chest. “If you truly cared, you would have searched.” </p><p>“You know that Heimdall looked!” Loki pleads. “He scoured everything in his sights for you!” </p><p>“Heimdall cannot see all,” Thor grits back. “You know this. There are corners even he cannot see into. There are countless galaxies beyond his reach. Did you even step foot beyond Asgard to search?” </p><p>“The bi-frost was destroyed-” </p><p>“It doesn’t matter,” Thor cuts his brother off gruffly, taking a couple of dragging paces backward and staring on darkly. Excuses, all of it. “You abandoned me, but it doesn’t matter. I am with someone who cares now.” Someone who will never abandon him. Someone to give him purpose, to help him fulfill his true potential. And if he doesn’t act soon, he’s going to disappoint that very person. With disappointment comes punishment. Thor shivers at the thought. </p><p>Loki has straightened though, stare intensifying as he comes closer to the glass. “Thor, who? Who have you found?” His eyes brighten with alarm. </p><p>“He found me,” Thor corrects. “And he has trusted me with this task.” </p><p>“With the tesseract,” Loki shakes his head. “Thor, this is surely madness.” </p><p>“No, <em> madness </em> is leaving your brother for dead,” Thor challenges calmly. “How long do you plan on keeping me here, brother? Surely you have a kingdom to tend to.” </p><p>“You will remain here until you give back what you have taken,” Loki replies, lifting his chin. “These people want their companions back, and the tesseract. Then you will be spending your time in an Asgardian cell until we can come to an agreement.” </p><p>“There will be no agreements,” Thor retorts firmly. “I have a mission to complete. I suggest you don’t get in my way. One way or another, I will find a way out, and you should hope you are far away when I do.” </p><p>“Are you threatening me?” Loki narrows his eyes and scoffs. “Brother, you could hardly best me as yourself – you think you stand a chance now?” </p><p>“I was weak then,” Thor hisses back, sweeping close to the glass again and lowering his voice. “I’m stronger now, a better warrior than I ever was. You could barely hold your own before, but I could slay you now.” </p><p>“Could you?” Loki challenges, hurt but stuffing it behind a sneer. “Could you kill your own brother? And for what? Because my efforts weren’t enough for you? I searched. I hoped. I suffered and missed you, and this is all you have for me? I’m sorry, Thor. The universe was simply too vast for me to scour, but I’m here now.” </p><p>Thor snorts. “Well you’re too late.” </p><p>“Then enjoy this cell.” Loki growls, but Thor can see tears building in his eyes as his brother backs up, turns, and walks away. Just like that, he’s gone. <em> Good. </em> </p><p>Thor backs up to the middle of his cell and looks around. All this is clearly some kind of elaborate mechanism. Those panels no-doubt turn and open to the world. He suspects there are cables above, and that control pad to one side would release them, dropping his prison out of this vessel. It’s either in the air or underwater, though he can’t tell which from here, and his journey here was spent unconscious thanks to one of Loki’s powerful sleeping spell. </p><p>The guard in the corner has his back turning, but he’s glancing over his shoulder every now and then to make sure the prisoner is behaving, and of course still present. Thor snorts to himself – as if these mortals could do much against him. He’ll find a way out of this cell, and out of these cuffs. All he needs is a little time, and the patience of his guardian. <em> I will get it </em> <em> done, </em> <em> I promise. </em> Thor gives one tug out of desperation, but the cuffs hold firm. Fine. Fighting might be difficult with them, but not impossible. The enemies here pose no threat, Loki aside. </p><p>Those three he encountered in Germany too perhaps. The man in the flying suit of armor, the red-haired woman with the electric gloves, and the tall man in the dark suit who wields a shield. A strange weapon, but an effective one, Thor grants. One used well, by a warrior of high caliber. Thor would never have expected to encounter warriors like him, like all three of those Midgardians, here on this planet of humans. Thor has tangled with humans before, and they were never so skilled as this. Tenacious, yes, but not like... not like the one with the star on his chest. The star-marked one is stronger than the others, faster. </p><p>A threat, someone to watch out for and eliminate first. The star-marked one can contend with his speed, has clever and observant eyes. There will be more surprises up his sleeve, most certainly. <em> Wherever I am, they sent you, their best fighter. Are there more like you? Are there more who are stronger? Or are you their best card? Oh, have the enemy shown their hand so soon? </em>Foolish. Besides, they have nothing against him. He knows where the tesseract is, where their missing soldiers are, and he can spare to wait – they will be desperate to recover their companions. While he waits here, his borrowed helpers build the portal device as per his guardian’s design. That design, he knows little of its purpose, or its function. All he knows is that this is crucial to his guardian’s plan. Thanos knows what he’s doing. </p><p>Thanos knows how everything fits together, and what is necessary. And Thor knows that his place is either at his side, or crushed beneath this movement. </p><p>-- </p><p><em> Even gods need air. It doesn’t take long to pass out. He tries to call his hammer, but he’s already </em> <em> asphyxiating </em> <em> . It is too late. He shuts his eyes, and dies. </em> </p><p><em> Then, he opens them again, and he’s alive. Breathing. In horrendous pain and terribly weak, but alive. His body is waking up, recovering from prolonged lack of oxygen. His muscles clench and spasm, and his lungs rattle. Everything is blurry, and he can’t breathe right. This goes on for what feels like days. Maybe weeks. He doesn’t know. </em> </p><p><em> But his body comes back to him, and his mind, and finally he can take in his surroundings. Wherever this is, it’s not Asgard, nor has he fallen back to Midgard. No, this place is much different. Shiny greys and pristine whites gleam back at him, and the room that surrounds him is nearly featureless. He’s on his back, stripped of his armor and dressed in plain clothes that feel too big. He sits and pushes off a blanket with shaking hands, though he would rather curl up under the thin but very warm fabric. Everything hurts, and when he looks at his arms, they don’t seem as thick as usual. In fact, as he turns his entire body on the bed, he finds it’s less that his clothes are too big, and more that he’s too small. </em> </p><p><em> He’s lost some weight. Not a huge amount, but enough to be noticeable. Asgardians can withstand a great deal of trauma, but </em> <em> apparently </em> <em> he’s been floating in space long enough for some muscle mass to atrophy. Thor winces and slides himself off the bed and onto his bare feet. In an instant, his </em> <em> legs </em> <em> collapse beneath him. There is no tentative wobble, no moment where they </em> <em> appear </em> <em> they might hold. He goes straight down with a thump, joints aching and his muscles unusually useless. </em> </p><p><em> “Loki...?” he rasps, scraping his hands on the floor as he summons the strength to right himself. “Loki...” </em> </p><p><em> Loki isn’t here. Thor coughs the roughness out of his throat, and the jostling wakes him up a bit more, though it saps his strength enough that he has to pause to collect himself. He grits his teeth – he's stronger than this, stronger than what has befallen his body. From what he can tell, he’s unblemished, so what’s the problem? He wills himself to get up, groaning for his own ears alone as he drags his body off the floor, hair falling limp in his face. He sags against the bed and clutches it for support as he coaxes his legs to hold him. </em> </p><p><em> One breath, two breaths, three. He’s the god of thunder. All he has to do is stand. After that, figuring out where he is and how to get home will be a piece of cake. </em> </p><p><em> Once he finds his balance, he feels much better. Thor straightens and rakes back his hair, tucking some behind his ear and peering around the room. It looks like a cell of sorts, with a strong, likely locked, door. Thor settles his weight onto his legs and draws the blanket off the bed, wrapping it around his body and shuffling toward the exit. His knees and ankles creak as he walks, and those first few steps hurt a lot. But he’s always been tough, and the pain he can soldier through. By the time he reaches the door, he’s loosened a bit, and his gait smooths. </em> </p><p><em> The door is locked, of course. There’s no handle, but there is a window, so Thor peers out into an ashen hallway illuminated sparsely with strips of light on the floor, showing the way. That’s all he can see. Thor pounds his fist into the glass, into the metal of the door itself, but it won’t budge. He takes a few steps back and rushes it, ramming his shoulder into it. It leaves only a dent, and his shoulder throbbing. </em> </p><p><em> The god of thunder can get through one </em> <em> measly </em> <em> door. Thor grits his teeth and sheds the blanket, staggering back again to have another try. This time, he makes a more conscious effort to gather his power, and this time the door </em> <em> snaps free of the slots it slides through </em> <em> , falling out into the hallway. That’s more like it. Thor picks up the blanket and wraps it around his shoulder a bit more firmly, walking out into the barren corridor. </em> </p><p><em> Someone is already there, walking toward him with menacing strides. A woman, full of power and grace, dark horns curling off her forehead, her close-fitting outfit leaving a muscular body on display. She holds a long spear in one hand, with a glowing blue head. The light glints off gold adornments. They stand there staring at each other only long enough for the hallway to flood with light. Thor turns on his heel to run, but he trips over himself and falls before the woman has to make a move. Before he can roll to stand, he feels the cold brush of steel rest at the base of his neck, hears a low buzzing in his ears from whatever energy source powers that spear. </em> </p><p><em> “It’s always a good sign when they come out swinging,” she purrs, rubbing the edge of the spear against his </em> <em> vertebrae </em> <em> without cutting. “Up, strong one.” </em> </p><p><em> He moves slowly, and only once the spear moves away. When he turns, she’s peering at him with feline eyes, poised in case he decides to fight or run, but she doesn’t seem like she’s going to hurt him, despite her predatory stance and the way she swipes her tongue across her top lip. </em> </p><p><em> “Come,” she orders, waiting for him to approach. </em> </p><p><em> He does, slowly, and she takes his arm to steady him, though the grip is anything but tender. Her gaze holds no concern, and it deeply unsettles him, but what choice does he have? He’s too weak to fight her, and perhaps she can provide help. She’s brought him here, hasn’t she? Rescued him? </em> </p><p><em> “Who are you?” he asks as they walk at a pace fast enough to take his breath away in this state. “Where is this?” </em> </p><p><em> “You are aboard the Sanctuary II,” the woman announces, sliding into an elevator at the end of the hall and pressing a button. “Warship of the great Thanos, the one who has rescued you and brought you to safety. I am Proxima Midnight of the Dark Order, and child of Thanos.” The doors shut with a whoosh, and Thor does his best to memorize the buttons, what floor they’re on, and which one they’re headed to. One thing he can tell for certain is that this is a huge ship. </em> </p><p><em> It all sounds very verbose, very illustrious, but it does not </em> <em> faze </em> <em> him. Thor comes from nobility, from castles and kings and legends carved in gold. It does, however, imbue him with hope – if </em> <em> Thanos </em> <em> is so great, then he will have resources to help, and Thor can get home. He can offer favors, rewards, promises of </em> <em> allegiance </em> <em> in future battles, if need-be. He won’t take advantage of generosity, and saving his life has already been generous as it is. </em> </p><p><em> “And who are you, little one?” The grip on his arm changes in nature, becoming a little more possessive, a little more wanting. </em> </p><p><em> “Thor, son of Odin,” Thor lifts his chin. He isn’t little, though this woman is actually a couple inches taller than he is. “Prince of </em> <em> Asgard </em> <em> , god of thunder.” </em> </p><p><em> “I see,” Midnight (he’s going to call her that – the whole thing is a mouthful) chuckles to herself. “Well I imagine you are a long way from home, and would like something to eat, perhaps a drink.” </em> </p><p><em> She says it as if there’s a catch, and he waits for her to ask a favor in return, but none comes. The air lingers with threats, and he needs to get free. He needs to get safe, but for now all he can do is nod, because he is hungry, and his mouth is incredibly dry. A headache is brewing behind his eyes, and he knows it will develop into something unbearable if he doesn’t drink. “Thank you,” he nods obediently. “I would like that.” It’s only polite, too. </em> </p><p><em> “Of course,” Midnight replies, her voice strangely deep and warbling. The elevator doors slide open, and they step into a much brighter-lit area. There’s more color, and it feels more like a living space and less like a prison. </em> </p><p><em> Thanos </em> <em> sits at the helm like a king, slowly turning in his chair, large windows displaying space as if it were his dominion. Perhaps it is. He’s huge, towering over Thor, over Midnight, his skin a rich purple color and his eyes filled with the fire of purpose and confidence. This is a ruler, a man with a mission and the means to accomplish it. In his eyes, in his entire posture and demeanor, Thor can see calm prowess that commands. But it does so patiently. This is a man who gets what he wants, and doesn’t mind waiting. </em> </p><p><em> This is a man with presence – all that from a few moments, and Thor is no master of reading people. He’s bright, observant, but he knows that right now he’s standing before a man who knows how to project. </em> </p><p><em> Not just a man. More. </em> <em> Thanos </em> <em> walks down from his raised platform, and he seems at peace, smiling with pride down at Thor. “Welcome, strong one.” Unlike Midnight, his voice is warm and caring. He reaches out with a large hand, but waits for Thor to accept the touch before giving it. Thor dips his head in submission, and Thanos plants his palm over Thor’s crown. He holds for a moment, then draws back, glancing up at Midnight and giving her a small nod. She releases Thor’s arm and slips out of the room. </em> </p><p><em> Thanos </em> <em> takes Thor by the shoulder and leads him to the steps that lead to the throne-like seat, sitting himself. Thor sits as well, somewhat heavily, and clutches the blanket around his shoulders. </em> <em> Thanos </em> <em> helps him, lowering him gently as his knees protest and threaten to drop him more harshly. </em> </p><p><em> “There are many who find a cold and lonely fate among the stars,” </em> <em> Thanos </em> <em> rumbles, “but none who have recovered. You must be truly strong to have survived. I confess I thought you would not. You have been asleep for over a week, and I do not know how long you spent floating in space before that.” </em> </p><p><em> Thor wouldn’t have predicted he could have survived this either, so he certainly can’t take credit for it. “Thank you,” he offers instead. “For saving me.” His time on Midgard has taught him manners, how to think of others before himself and have humility. He finds it easier in the presence of Thanos. </em> </p><p><em> “I would have made your welcome more agreeable had I known you would wake so suddenly,” </em> <em> Thanos </em> <em> explains with a smile. “I apologize that you awoke to such inhospitable conditions. I will find you somewhere nicer to stay.” </em> </p><p><em> “Thank you,” Thor nods. He can’t bring himself to ask for more favors, not right now. </em> </p><p><em> Proxima Midnight returns shortly with a tray. </em> <em> Thanos </em> <em> reaches up to take it from her so Thor doesn’t have to pulls his arms too far from his body. It’s set carefully on the steps, and the woman waved away. Thor doesn’t turn away from her until she’s gone, but when the elevator </em> <em> shuts </em> <em> he twists his sore back and stares at the food that’s been brought for him. Some soup, a hot drink of some kind. Tea, maybe? It looks good, anyway, and his stomach rumbles for it. </em> <em> Thanos </em> <em> watches him forgo the spoon and sip right from the bowl. “Slowly,” he murmurs, and Thor slows his urgent gulping. </em> </p><p><em> It’s easy on his stomach, but fulfilling. His starved body drinks in the sustenance, and he feels instantly better, though still very tired. All this walking has taxed his recovering body. It will not take long for everything to come back, though. </em> </p><p><em> “What is your name, little one?” Thanos asks, his tone curious and inviting. </em> </p><p><em> “Thor,” he replies, swallowing the last drop of soup and </em> <em> exchanging </em> <em> the bowl for the cup. He doesn’t bother with the rest this time. He can explain to </em> <em> Thanos </em> <em> later that he’s a prince, in case his rescuer needs some recompense for his aid. </em> </p><p><em> “Does my friend frighten you?” the question comes as a bit of a surprise, though it holds no judgment nor offense. </em> </p><p><em> Thor swallows his tea, pausing on his words as he chooses them. His time on Midgard has helped him learn to temper his pride, to not feel so desperate to prove himself all the time. There is no need to be brave and lie, and say she doesn’t bother him. Though ‘frighten’ isn’t exactly the right word, she certainly puts him on edge. </em> </p><p><em> Thanos </em> <em> chuckles as he thinks. “She is brisk,” he explains good-naturedly. “But you will come to understand that her methods are good. She is a brave and loyal warrior, one a warrior like yourself will come to respect. She is under my protection, as are you.” </em> </p><p><em> Thor swallows his tea. Perhaps it is best to explain now, instead of later... “May I perhaps ask you another favor?” he looks up. It’s odd to look up like this, but </em> <em> Thanos </em> <em> is not threatening. In </em> <em> fact </em> <em> he’s quite welcoming, nodding an encouraging that the prince continue. “My planet... It is far away, but I have a family there. I need to get back to them, somehow. Would you be able to take me there? I have nothing on me to give you, but I promise you my kingdom is wealthy, and my father would pay you a great deal-” </em> </p><p><em> Thanos </em> <em> lifts a finger, and Thor shuts his mouth. “Of course,” he agrees. “And there is no need for payment. You are a guest here. Perhaps you should rest. We can talk more about this when you feel better.” </em> </p><p><em> That puts Thor’s heart at ease. He sighs and nods, putting down his empty cup. Already he can feel his eyelids start to droop. </em> </p><p><em> “Come on, little one,” </em> <em> Thanos </em> <em> invites, gently grasping Thor’s arm and easing him to his feet. He’s so big, so strong and unbothered by how badly Thor is starting to list into the support. </em> </p><p><em> They walk at Thor’s pace toward the door, and into the elevator. Down they go, one floor at a time. </em> </p><p><em> “What planet are you from?” </em> <em> Thanos </em> <em> asks casually as they move slowly through the corridors of the ship. </em> </p><p><em> “ </em> <em> Asgard </em> <em> ,” Thor replies. “It is a beautiful place. My friend... he can see all living souls within many galaxies, but our portal was damaged. Otherwise he would have rescued me himself.” Without the </em> <em> Bifrost </em> <em> , there is nothing Heimdall can do to save him, even if his friend knows where he is. He may be outside of Heimdall’s sights. Even so, his family will look for him. His father, his mother, perhaps even his brother. Loki will find him. Loki is clever, has a broader view of the universe, and a few tricks up his sleeve. Those tricks may come in handy now. Despite their feud, he knows his brother will come for him. Perhaps he can return home in time to save his brother the search. </em> <em> Thanos </em> <em> will help him. </em> </p><p><em> “And this family of yours...?” </em> <em> Thanos </em> <em> prompts, ever patient as Thor starts to feel his body give in to the strain he’s put it through after so long spent adrift in a vacuum. </em> </p><p><em> Thor nods. “My mother, my father,” he agrees. “And a brother, adopted... We have our differences, but I know that deep down he cares for me.” He smiles drunkenly to himself. “I know he never meant to push me.” </em> </p><p><em> Thanos </em> <em> says nothing on that, or maybe he does and Thor just didn’t hear him. He’s pitching forward into the black. </em> </p><p>-- </p><p>There is nothing to do in this cell but think. Thor sits and crosses his legs, resting his cuffed wrists on his ankles and closing his eyes. There is only one door in this cell, but once through it, escape should be easy. None of the other doors will be able to hold him. Perhaps he’ll be able to break through this one, if he’s careful enough. The glass is stronger than he expected from humans, but surely not stronger than a god. His blades are sharp; if he can weaken the glass with some crisscrossed cuts, he should be able to punch through. And if this cell really is triggered to eject, he’ll just have to be faster. </p><p>He wonders who this cell was built for. Not him, surely. There’s no way these humans could have constructed it so quickly. Thor wonders curiously for only a few moments before footsteps approach from one side and stop by the glass wall. The star-marked one, by those long and light strides. Perhaps this cell is made for him, just in case. </p><p>It’s about time the others come to interrogate him. Will the star-marked one speak as well as he fights? Thor sits completely still and listens, counting breaths and strong heartbeats. He can hear the valves squeezing with raw power even from here, even through the glass. He hears lungs swell and airways open before the star-marked one begins to speak. Now that is a voice that commands armies, commands respect. It’s not as deep as he’d expected, but layered with rich, vibrating tones. “Get up.” </p><p>No, Thor doesn’t think he will. He opens his eyes and turns his head to face the star-marked one. Bright blue eyes stare back. Blonde hair sweeps across a pale forehead, a fading bruise on one cheek – it’s much more faded than Thor would have expected, but then, he can hit hard enough to crush bone, and he remembers the hit didn’t slow the warrior. He also remembers the warrior hitting quite hard himself. It’s very likely this man can heal faster than humans normally do, the ones he’s encountered so far, at least. </p><p>The star-marked one stares down at him unblinking, arms crossed over a broad chest, accentuating wide shoulders. He’s unzipped his uniform and tied the sleeves around his waist, and donned a long-sleeved shirt instead. “You know why I’m here,” the blonde says, holding his ground. He’s entirely unintimidated. Thor considers standing just to see if he can change that (he knows he’s a bit taller than this man), but he’ll stay where he for now and see how this plays out. </p><p>Thor turns himself to face the star-marked one and slouches casually, taunting with his posture. “Do I?” You can learn a lot about a person by playing games with them. You can draw out their true intentions this way, by frustrating them, giving nothing while gathering everything. Thanos taught him how to do that, how to keep the upper hand even outside of a fight. <em> Everything is a fight. </em> </p><p>Undeterred, the blonde reaches into his pocket and pulls out a piece of paper, unfolding it and pressing it against the glass. On it are the photographs of every person currently working on building the portal, the agents he’s borrowed from this organization – SHIELD, that’s what they’re called. He spotted their little acronym on a uniform when he arrived on Midgard a week or so ago. “You have these men in your custody, along with the tesseract,” the blonde iterates. “We want them back.” </p><p><em> You can have them, when </em> <em> Thanos </em> <em> is finished with them. </em> Thor snorts. “And how do you anticipate achieving that?” Are these people above torturing? Let them exhaust themselves; physical pain is not something Midgardians are good at inflicting, certainly not compared to Thanos. Physical pain cannot break him – it serves only as an old friend. He would welcome them to try. Whatever their pathetic weapons can do, his body can heal from. In pain, he can hide himself and seal away the world. </p><p>The star-marked one must not have come to threaten, because he doesn’t even try to insinuate a vague and terrible threat he may inflict upon a reluctant prisoner. He merely sighs and folds up the paper. “Because it’s wrong,” he replies with such certainty it’s laughable. </p><p>“You attempt to badger me with morals?” Thor snorts. “And who are you to decide what’s right and wrong?” <em> This was never my plan anyway, nor my decision. This is Thanos’ plan. He knows what he’s doing, and it’s for the greater good. You couldn’t possibly understand. </em> </p><p>The blonde shrugs. “Not up to me,” he replies casually, crossing his arms again. “That’s up to you to decide how you feel about all this.” </p><p>“Who are you decide what I might see as right or wrong?” Thor tries instead. “You make a lot of assumptions, for one so small and weak. Perhaps the star you wear makes you feel you have some importance, some wisdom and knowledge beyond others. Your companions, they marked you. Tell me, what is the star for? Is it a badge of some kind?” </p><p>The blonde shivers and tenses, opening his mouth but not speaking for a moment or two. Then he turns and leaves, before Thor can say another word. Just like that, he’s alone, chewing on more replies and the frustration of not being able to say them. But he’s won. He found the blonde’s weakness. This is where he needs to prod to keep the star-marked one at arm’s length. </p><p>-- </p><p>In this transparent circular cell, there is no-where to hide. Someone can always see him, and he knows they’re watching him from somewhere when the room is empty. He hopes they will bore of watching him quickly, and it gives him pleasure to imagine someone seated in front of a security camera, checking their watch out of boredom, or shivering with anticipation that the prisoner is plotting. </p><p>Well, Thor <em> is </em> plotting. Perhaps ‘plotting’ has the wrong connotation – that’s a malevolent word – but his mind is not inert though his body is. He’d always been too impatient, too ready to search some next entertainment, but Thanos has trained him to be calm and patient. Thanos has taught him how to hunt like a predator, how to wait in the shadows for the right moment. Now, he can sit with his legs crossed and his back straight, perfectly still, and remain there for hours. Thor gracefully lowers into a lotus position and settles his wrists in his lap again, shutting his eyes. He takes a single deep breath, exhales slowly, and he’s in that place. </p><p>He isn’t granted peace for very long. Someone comes to disturb him yet again. <em> Light steps, lighter than the blonde one. Shorter strides. </em> The woman, he figures. She’s approached from behind, so he opens his eyes and wonders what he has on her before she tries her own techniques of interrogation on him. <em> The archer. Barton. Perhaps she knows the other agents as well, but this one is her friend. He mentioned her by name – Natasha. Black Widow. One of SHIELD’s best agents, like him. </em> </p><p>She’s a spy, he knows that. He’s curious to find out how her tactics will be different than his brother, different than the star-marked one.  </p><p>“I met someone like you once.” He can hear her walking around. She comes into his field of view, vibrant red hair softly curled around her jaw, her stature small but poised and confident. Her arms are folded over her chest, and there’s something in one hand. He flicks his eyes to it, but keeps his stare on her face, on her eyes, and he knows she’s scouring him without breaking eye contact. With his silence he invites her to explain. She obliges. “He had training, like you. He was fast and ruthless, more machine than man. At the time, I admired him, but I always wondered who he really was. It started off as a passing thought, but then I... I got out. Some things changed in my life, and I thought back to him. That passing thought grew into more of a curiosity. You could say a worry.” </p><p>Thor says nothing. He knows what she’s trying to do with her little story; but she's never met anyone like him, and can’t begin to understand who he is, or what he wants. He maintains passivity, but it’s becoming tainted by one eyebrow tugging persistently upward in small jerks. He can no longer be played – Thanos made sure of it. </p><p>The spy appears undeterred. “You lose part of yourself when you become something like that,” she goes on. “I did. But someone gave me something to fight for, a reason to remember who I am, and what I want to fight for. What do you fight for?”  </p><p>Thor stands up, because it feels right. He needs to stand to proclaim the conquests of Thanos. “I fight in the name of Thanos,” he replies calmly, filling out his chest and shoulders. “Even if you stop me, you cannot stop him. He will have his way with Midgard.” </p><p>The spy sighs, and shakes her head, but makes no mention of his later comments. “Not who,” she corrects, “<em> what. </em>" </p><p>The name of Thanos means nothing here. It will.  </p><p>He doesn’t realize that he can’t answer her question until she’s holding up a piece of paper and pushing it against the glass. “What did you fight for then?” she asks, and he looks. </p><p>The sight of his own face is jarring. He’s standing there, happy and free, brushing one of the farmer’s horses. His favorite horse. Thor nearly – <em> so </em> nearly – cracks, but he holds together and takes his eyes from the photograph, staring challengingly at her as he paces closer. “That is not who I am,” he growls. “You and I may share beats of a past, but we are not the same.” </p><p>The spy doesn’t pull her eyes away from him, though she does take back the photo as she stares straight into his glare. “Where’s the tesseract. Where’s Barton? The other agents?” </p><p>Thor snorts. He hadn’t expected such straight-forward questions from her. “You would be too late before you found them, even if I told you,” he replies. “You think stopping this plan ends when you find your friends, when you find the tesseract?” </p><p>The spy actually smirks at him, her lips twitching in a faint smile and her eyebrow leaping as she takes loose strides backward. “You talk a lot for a man trapped in a glass box. Tell Thanos to come talk about this ‘plan’ of his and we’ll see for ourselves. Until then, enjoy your stay.” </p><p>“You will not get what you want, mortal,” he growls as she leaves, hating her taunting, knowing stride. Oh, if only she knew of what Thanos could bring, of what <em> Thor </em> could bring if not for this cage and these cuffs. <em> They will soon no longer separate me from you. </em> “You can try your tactics, but you won’t get what you want.” </p><p>She doesn’t look back, lifting her hand and waggling her fingers at him as she walks away. He can’t help but feel as though something’s been taken from him without his consent, and he shivers. This is not a new feeling, though this time he’s not sure exactly what she took from him. Feeling vulnerable, he staggers back a couple of paces and sits back in the middle of the cell, firmly dragging in his legs. The urge to curl up and attempt to protect himself is so powerful it almost bends him. He needs to protect his body. That feeling of having no control wrestles away his fluidity. Can they see him shaking, wherever they hide to watch? Thor tenses his whole body and fights to loosen, but he can’t, so he has to sit with all his muscles clenched. </p><p>What <em> does </em> he fight for? <em> What? </em> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I am in a tenacious state of hate of everything I've ever made, so next chapter may take some time. So along with this new chapter I give to you <a href="https://stormyandrescuer.tumblr.com/post/617224103307476992/aw-look-thors-cap-comes-with-his-own-carrying"> this comic</a>, which took me far too long to make given that the first version looked like it was drawn by three different people.</p><p>Thanks as always for your feedback! I'm always going through my inbox reading old comments, and y'all really spoil me.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Loki isn’t a talker. He sits across from Steve at the meeting table, deep in thought, lips pursed as he fiddles with the hem of his jacket. Natasha is with Thor at the moment, having her own shot at interrogating the alien while the rest of them watch the security footage. Steve’s shield is within reach, and Loki is prepared to race out too and contain his brother if need-be. So far, the cuffs and the cell are enough, though Thor hasn’t made any escape attempts yet.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Loki’s own attempts were surprisingly ineffective. He returned dejected, his heart and probably his pride damaged by his brother’s words. Reluctantly, he’d allowed the other two to try. Steve is not good manipulating people, at hiding his own thoughts and feelings while gleaning what he needs from the other. He’s managed to sway people before, though, without any of that. Sincerity has served him well in the past. Instead, when it was his turn, Thor stumbled upon the soldier’s insecurities, and Steve hadn’t felt strong enough to hold his ground. He hopes Natasha has better luck.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Right now, she’s calmly speaking with their prisoner, her posture relaxed and her voice even. When Thor threatens her, she remains unflinching, and unintimidated. Loki watches the screen positioned on the wall, his emotions that same mix of anger and sadness that doesn’t show any signs of going away. Steve’s heart weeps.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” he says quietly. “You uh... hungry?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I am not,” Loki replies tersely.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve looks down at his hands, then back at the screen. These men are aliens, of another species, but they’re still </span>
  <em>
    <span>men.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Without the strength, the magic, or any other surprises hidden beneath appearances and </span>
  <span>behaviors</span>
  <span>, they’re as much human as anyone on Earth. Steve looks back over at Loki, finding his determination. “What happened?” he asks. It might too bold a question, but he can’t bear that broken, lost stare across from him. “You said Thor was gone for a hundred years.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Give or take,” Loki growls. He snorts and rubs his face, leaning back in his chair with a sigh and blinking up at the ceiling, then he slumps forward and stares at the table, voice softening. “We </span>
  <span>fought,</span>
  <span> he fell. That is all.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve knows guilt when he sees it. He knows that face, because it’s stared back in the mirror. He knows </span>
  <span>that</span>
  <span> voice, because it’s rung in his ears. He knows those words, because he’s said them to himself: </span>
  <em>
    <span>He fell.</span>
  </em>
  <span> There are more words lingering behind them: </span>
  <em>
    <span>It’s my fault. I didn’t reach far enough. I didn’t look hard enough.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He hears those sentiments with a heavy heart that pulses in </span>
  <span>commiseration</span>
  <span>. “I’m sure what happened wasn’t your fault,” he offers quietly.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Loki’s head whips up, and he’s full of a different kind of rage. “What do you know of it?” he snaps, eyes a bit brighter as light refracts in the gathering tears. “What do you know of anything on your little planet?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Nothing, that’s what, at least of specific events. Steve holds up his hand placatingly, submitting to the other man. “You’re right, I’m sorry,” he agrees, “I don’t know what happened. I just... I’ve been in your shoes. Somewhat...” Bucky never came back hating him, never came back at all. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Maybe he will. Maybe in twenty-forty-five, bam, right on the dot, he’ll reappear. Maybe he’ll bring his own magic weapon with him too.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Loki sags. It must be exhausting, constantly fluctuating between these emotions pulling on him – anger, then sadness, rage, then crushing despondence. “It was my fault,” he shakes his head once, timidly, as if afraid to express how he feels. Is he afraid of others, or of himself? “I went too far, and he paid the price for my mistakes. Our kingdom floats in the middle of space, and he fell off the edge into the abyss. He must have had help to survive.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Someone found him,” Steve clarifies. “That spear of his, do you know anything about it?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“It is not his weapon of choice,” Loki frowns. “I have never seen it before. Actually, I’ve never seen him fight like that. His methods were always much more... blunt. He was a skilled warrior, but never like this. He mentioned someone found him, and must have trained him, but he said not who.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve nods. Loki is just as clueless as they are, apparently. “And you have no idea what he might be planning, or why?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Loki snorts. “But then, I don’t believe he does either. This is not a plan of his own making. My brother is not stupid, but he was never one with visions of conquest and the mind to exact such a detailed plan as this. Whatever he works toward are not his own desires.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“He seems pretty committed,” Steve notes.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Loki’s stare darkens into a glare once more. “That’s what worries me.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>They aren’t dealing with a visionary, but a man bearing the visions of another on his shoulders. Steve’s seen it. He’s fought men like that, back in the days of HYDRA. Men so committed to the Red Skull’s plan to shape the world into his own mold, that they would follow any direction without question. Men like that are dangerous, but not as dangerous as the leader himself, hiding behind those he has convinced to do his bidding while pulling the strings. The key to productivity is delegation, and the key to survival is to surround yourself with so many bodies the opposition will run out of bullets before they can get to you.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Is that what Thor is; a long, reaching tentacle sent out by some figurehead to accomplish a task? What is the goal of the mastermind, and is it part of a larger network? What is Thor’s own goal? Steve wishes he knew more, but sadly, Tony and Bruce are still tracing the tesseract.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>At least when Steve and Natasha last went to check on the scientists, they’d made some progress: before being intercepted at the gala in Stuttgart, apparently Thor had injured a scientist there by the name of Heinrich Schafer. Dr. Schafer was in possession of a large quantity of iridium, which disappeared that night from his vault. According to some witness accounts Fury acquired from the German authorities, Schafer was knocked unconscious before being taken away by two other men believed to be missing SHIELD agents. Schafer was then recovered, bruised but alive, in a back-alley a few blocks away from where he kept the precious element.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>In a flurry of long words and numbers with units Steve’s never heard before, Bruce and Tony explained to the spy and the soldier that the iridium will be needed to help stabilize the tesseract if a portal is to be created without the disaster that leveled a SHIELD base the first time. The portal will also be wider, and able to stay open longer. That’s the gist of it, anyway.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Portals are concerning. Clearly Thor, or his benefactor, is trying to bring something here. It’s not for a sight-seeing vacation, Steve knows that much.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Loki stands in frustration, thrusting back his chair, still watching the screen intently. “This is not him.” His fists are clenched at his sides. “This is not like him at all. This is... He would not do this. Devise a plan to build a portal, collude with a higher power... Wear clothes like that!”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Slowly, Steve stands up too, taking a tentative step around the table. “We’ll figure this out,” he promises gently. “There must be a reason, and we’ll find it, okay? We’ll do what we can to help.” He can’t bank on Fury’s aid, but he can offer his own, and probably Natasha’s. Maybe Stark and Banner would help too. Even Fury might be convinced, when he </span>
  <span>gets</span>
  <span> what he needs and his agents are home safe.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>They watch Natasha leave the room, and leave Thor alone in his cell where he sits and draws his legs in protectively. Loki’s stare widens and his jaw clenches with further anger at the vulnerability radiating off the figure on the screen. Steve starts to move before Natasha can walk all the way into the room, holding up his hands to keep Loki from pouncing on her. “What did you say to him!” he demands. “What have you done to him?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Natasha jumps and skirts around to the other side of the table, glancing up at the screen and opening her mouth. She pauses and looks back up. “I... I didn’t say anything,” she murmurs.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Loki leans away from Steve’s hands and sits heavily, and they all stare at the screen.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I promise I didn’t try to break him,” Natasha says, looking over at the brother. “I promise. I just showed him this.” She slides a printed photograph across the table.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Loki picks it up and stares blankly at it, tears welling in his eyes. Quickly, he throws it down and covers his eyes with his hand, restraining his breaths from quickening with tight shoulders. Eyebrows upturned, Steve reaches out and lands a hand on Loki’s shoulder. The brother growls and smacks it away. “Don’t touch me,” he hisses darkly, pushing the picture away as if it were poison. “Where did you find this?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Natasha glances up at Steve. “Online,” she explains quietly. “We were doing some research.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“To learn who we are? </span>
  <span>So</span>
  <span> you could break him?” Loki drops his hands and glares at the both of them as Steve moves around the table and respectfully sits beside his friend. The brother’s eyes are damp with tears he hasn’t managed to contain, summoned by guilt and regret and a whole bundle of other emotions.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Steve whispers. “We just want to solve this problem – every aspect of it. We just want to help.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The soldier believes it without a doubt, and it must have come through – either that or Loki is tired of fighting. The brother submits and sags, wiping his eyes with the side of his hand and flicking the tears off in </span>
  <span>disgust</span>
  <span>. “</span>
  <span>Of course</span>
  <span> my idiot brother is too stupid to die... How could I have ever thought differently.” He snorts humorlessly to himself.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>They sit in solemn silence, watching the screen, until Loki reaches out and draws the photograph back to himself. He stares at it, letting the tears gather freely and making no move to hide or stop them.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Midgard was generous to him once,” Loki whispers, staring at an image of his brother long-gone. “A </span>
  <span>hundred</span>
  <span> years later, and you would </span>
  <span>extend</span>
  <span> your generosity once again, to him and to me, despite being strangers. You are a curious people.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve smiles warmly. “That’s just what you do round here,” he agrees. “If nobody helped each other we wouldn’t get very far.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Loki wipes his tears away and actually smiles back, staring down at the photograph. “Perhaps you are right,” he submits. “And... perhaps I could accept your previous offer of food.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure thing,” Steve agrees, standing. “Come on, I’m sure we can find you some clothes to borrow, if you want. Then we can go down to the cafeteria.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Loki stands too, frowning. “What’s wrong with my clothes?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing...” Steve tips his head, trying to find the right words as he looks up and down the long black leather jacket adorned with gold and green. “People might stare, that’s all.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>I mean, they already stare at me, so it might not make much difference.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I admit something casual may be more comfortable,” Loki straightens and stands tall and still. Is he about to strip right here? Steve opens his mouth, but the alien’s form just shimmers, wiping away the other-worldly robes and replacing them with a black suit. “Is this suitable?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, yeah,” Steve agrees. Natasha zips up her suit, and Steve tightens the sleeves of his still tied around his waist. He bends and pick up his shield, tightening the straps around his shoulders. He must admit, he could use a snack too. One last glance at the monitors, and they all file out.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>--</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Unsurprisingly, Natasha still managed to get the most information out of the three of them. “He’s scared,” she explains simply, setting her fruit salad on the table and sitting. “He’s going to get desperate, and we need to be ready when he gets desperate enough to try and escape.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“This isn’t his plan,” Steve agrees, though he’s certain it need not be said. “This isn’t what he wants.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Not the plan itself,” Natasha corrects, “but he does want to accomplish it for someone else’s approval.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Loki snorts at that, staring into his coffee with hints of curiosity. He takes a tentative sip and licks his lips, glancing up at the other two before drinking a more </span>
  <span>committing</span>
  <span> mouthful. The alien holds the paper cup against his chest, cradling it in both hands to self-soothe, all while maintaining an otherwise-noble posture. “And you said this person who sent him is called Thanos.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Natasha nods. “Heard of him?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Never,” Loki replies flatly. “But somehow he has rescued my brother from space and turned him against his nature. My brother is... stubborn, and sometimes lacking in judgement, but he was never malevolent. I fear the kind of mind it would take to turn him into such a thing.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>So far, Thor hasn’t stricken Steve as malevolent, not even when they exchanged blows. Not even when Thor questioned the soldier’s importance. Natasha is right: he’s scared, throwing up defenses instead of aiming to hurt. His goal isn’t to harm Earth or the people living here, it’s to protect himself. What he wants isn’t to cause pain, it’s to keep pain from being inflicted on him. That pain could be physical, but it could just as well be emotional, too; as Natasha said, Thor is carrying out a mission for this </span>
  <span>Thanos</span>
  <span>, and accomplishing it will likely gain him favor. Steve wonders what failing it might gain him – what is Thor afraid of? That will certainly determine how quickly he becomes desperate, and how furiously he attempts to escape. His own desires may not be to hurt, but in fear he could easily hurt a lot of people. If Thor ends up on a rampage, he could easily kill any human that gets in his way. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Is there anything else we can do to make sure he doesn’t escape?” Natasha asks.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I can restrain him with magic if need-be,” Loki confirms. “But I doubt he will be able to give you what you need while asleep.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Their best bet, then, is to find the right angle to work, and get this information out of their prisoner. Then Loki can take his brother back to their home planet and deal with him there. Steve wants to help, but he knows that the lives of everyone on this ship, at the very least, are in danger with Thor aboard.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>In the end, it might not matter whether or not they can get Thor to talk: Tony and Bruce might find the location of the tesseract before then, and with it the missing agents. Now with the scepter, tracking that cube might be easier. Steve hopes so.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>--</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>As it stands, there isn’t much to do. Not for Steve and Natasha at least. They could do more research, but the internet can’t tell them what they need to know about here-and-now-Thor. They could try interrogation again, but neither of them </span>
  <span>feel</span>
  <span> good about it, not while Thor is still sitting in the middle of his cell looking vulnerable when they check on the surveillance feed.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Steve?” Natasha touches his arm and looks up at him, glancing at Loki.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I will watch him,” Loki says quietly, nodding at them both and respectfully leaving.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve peers curiously down at Natasha, his gaze flooding with concern at the sight of her upturned eyebrows. “What is it?” he asks, turning his whole body to face her.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on,” she gestures to the door and gives Thor one last look. “I need to tell you something. Besides, you look like you have some steam to burn.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He usually does. Curiously, Steve tips his head and follows, but he doesn’t say a word as the spy leads him through the </span>
  <span>helicarrier</span>
  <span> and down to the gym. </span>
  <span>Clearly</span>
  <span> she wants to talk in private. They don’t bother to change into work-out clothes this time – their uniforms will do. Steve takes off his boots, and so does she. The soldier takes off his shirt and slides his arms through his uniform sleeves, pulling the zipper all the way to the top and fastening the collar. They leave their weapons to one side and square off.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You read my file,” she more states than asks.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Steve replies, managing his weight and preparing for her lesson. He knows the Black Widow is a capable warrior, a more-than-formidable opponent, and a deadly enemy. He certainly wouldn’t want to be on her bad side.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, not everything is in there,” she shakes her head. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Natasha-”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I trust you,” she cuts him off firmly, though he can tell this isn’t easy for her. She quirks a little smile at his alarm. “At ease, Rogers. I’m not going to give you my biography. I just think... there are a few things you should know about me. If they might help him... I need to tell you.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve won’t stop anyone from speaking their mind if they need to, but he doesn’t want her to tell him things she’s not comfortable sharing. They barely know each other. But he can’t deny he’s curious, and that she’s probably right: whatever she’s been through, maybe she can help Thor. Her previous revelations about his </span>
  <span>behavior</span>
  <span> already have him guessing as to what she’s endured, and his heart aches for her as it does for Thor.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Neither of them </span>
  <span>need</span>
  <span> his sympathy though. He’ll give them his help where he can, but right now Natasha isn’t looking for solace. She’s running at him, ducking under his long arms and sliding on the mats. Her foot collides with his shin and he goes down. She pounces on him, using their differing sizes and weights against him. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Nobody</span>
  </em>
  <span> learns to move that way without a super soldier serum, or losing a part of themselves. The speed and accuracy of her movements demonstrates training beyond just dedication. As the spy stated: you have to be hurt to be able to fight like this. Steve needs to step up his game, then, and make good use of the serum that allows him to move like no-one else without having to train nearly as hard. Still, for all his strength, speed, and reflexes, Natasha takes him down. She can predict his movements, and she doesn’t fight to overpower anyway. She doesn’t need to.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The second Steve’s on his back, she’s wrapped around him, putting him in one of her incredibly effective arm bars. She knows exactly how to trap joints in a way that hurts, even for a super-soldier. Super-soldiers feel pain too, have joints made of bone and flesh and tissue just like any person.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Natasha’s face is right by his ear. “You don’t just learn to fight like this,” she iterates. “In the Red Room... they carved out your humanity, made you believe that what you were doing was right. They allowed me the choice of working for them, and I thought I was on the right path.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve listens intently to her words, and her tone. She’s got him held in such a way that he can’t turn and offer her any gentle smiles of commiseration, or friendly gestures. He can’t offer her a pat or a hug, can’t really say much either because she’s got one arm around his throat. Clearly, she just wants him to listen. He can do that.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Natasha releases him and slides free without so much as a scramble, watching him hop to his feet in pursuit. “I grew up there,” she continues. “I grew up their weapon, and Clint got me out. I was their weapon for decades, and he had to fight for years to get me free. More mentally than physically, though that too.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve holds his posture, letting her words simmer in the back of his brain.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not theirs,” Natasha’s eyebrow leaps in defiance, regardless of how composed she is. “I never was, and sometimes I wonder how I managed to get that far down. Clint was never fighting them, he was fighting me.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>People are far better at convincing themselves of something than anyone else. How long has Thor spent convincing himself that he belongs to someone else, that their desires are his own, and are right?</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Eyes up, soldier,” Natasha orders. They can talk a bit more later – for now, the spy has </span>
  <span>said</span>
  <span> what she needs to. Steve respects her wishes and doesn’t pry, readying himself for his first lesson.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The gym is, to his relief, empty. Steve would rather not have an audience, though he doesn’t mind losing in front of other people. They’re going to be learning take-downs today, how to make use of anatomical weakness and eliminate the need to overpower an opponent. Steve remembers a time when everyone was stronger than he was, but since the serum he’s hardy had to worry about that. Now with a potential threat aboard stronger than Captain America, learning to fight smarter instead of harder is a good ploy. And who better to teach him than Natasha Romanoff? She’s small, and though by no-means weak, she would have a hard time if she tried to overpower every single opponent as her winning move.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Trouble is, Thor is both strong and skilled. Well, Steve has to give this best go, and with the </span>
  <span>serum</span>
  <span> he’s got a chance of mastering these techniques in time for them to be useful. He hopes they won’t be needed, that Thor will either return home with his brother before a fight breaks out, or willingly submit. That second one doesn’t seem likely, not in the time-frame SHIELD requires, at least. Barton and the other agents might not have that much time, nor will the world if this master plan comes to fruition.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Natasha warms up with him, though the serum hardly needs it. Soon, they’re straight at it again. She teaches him pressure points, and he pays close attention to every detail she can pass on to him. And she knows </span>
  <em>
    <span>a lot.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Technique after technique, weak spots in the human body to take advantage of, quick moves to block attacks, small adjustments to simple moves that increase their power and accuracy. Natasha teaches him the mindset to enter a fight with, at least against someone stronger than him.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Move fast, but don’t tire yourself out,” she instructs. “He’s going to wear out before you, so he has time to chase you. Don’t let him catch you, but don’t let your movements go to waste. If you’re standing still, you’re watching for his next attack and preparing to dodge. If you’re dancing around, you’re doing it with the intention of attacking, or moving him where you want him. You need to be efficient.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve nods, knowing she’s right: Thor </span>
  <em>
    <span>will</span>
  </em>
  <span> get tired slower than him, and there’s no sense wasting energy anyway, even if he is the peak of human physical achievement. He can outlast any Earthly opponent, but the fight rarely involves simply beating one man. Besides, it’s always good to learn a new skill instead of taking what he has for granted. He can always be better.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Natasha actually works him into a sweat, which is something. When they finish, he unzips his suit and folds it off his upper body, picking his shirt off the bench and wiping sweat off his torso and face. The spy saunters up and passes him some water. “Nice work, soldier, you really do learn fast.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I have a good teacher,” he smiles and takes the water from her, unscrewing the top. She doesn’t stare when he drains the whole bottle in one go.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Tomorrow morning,” she nods. “We can work on some more. If you like.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He smiles eagerly and nods back. “Please.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Natasha heaves a telling sigh, wiping her hand across her forehead. She smiles back. “Sounds good.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ll get Barton back, even if we can’t get Thor to tell us anything,” Steve promises. “Stark and Banner will find the cube, and we’ll find him too. We’ll break him free of the scepter’s spell.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Natasha’s smile grows more burdened, and she lowers her head. Carefully watching her response, Steve lowers his hand onto her shoulder, checking all the while that they’re still alone. The spy leans into it a bit, so he squeezes, and she affords herself this moment. He’ll wait here as long as she likes.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>That isn’t long at all, but it seems like it might be a lot for her. It’s hard to say. Regardless, it looks to have been enough. She smiles a bit brighter. “Thanks, Steve. Come on, let’s check up on our science pals.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe we should bring them some dinner...” Steve frowns at the clock on the wall. It’s been a long day.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Natasha agrees, Steve puts his shirt on, and they gather their supplies. He ties the sleeves of his uniform back around his waist and follows her out. They head down to the cafeteria to collect dinner, and carry it up to the lab where they spend the rest of the evening. Tony and Bruce chatter about their work, but it’s actually quite soothing. Steve does his best to follow along, and he’s glad that Natasha is just as lost as he is when the geniuses start bouncing long words off each other like it’s some kind of ping-pong rally – no normal person would be able to follow either, whether they’d spent decades frozen in time or not. </span>
  <span>Natasha</span>
  <span> does casually lean over and explain any modern references that pop up if he misses something though, so he never feels left behind.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Tony is a serial rambler, but he’s in his element, and clearly enjoying himself. While the engineer chatters on about how-many-Kelvins that, and the-capacitance-of-some-thing this, Bruce quietly asks the other two about their work, and how they got on. They calmly explain what few details they have, that Thor and Loki appear to be gods from ancient Norse myth, and that Thor is working for someone named Thanos, but beyond that they don’t know anything more.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve doesn’t get much time to think about Natasha’s words until he’s alone that evening. It feels so strange to be by himself, despite living that way for months since waking up. Just a couple of days spent with Natasha and the others is all it takes to alert him to the fact that he needs to make more friends.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>For </span>
  <span>now</span>
  <span> though, it’s nice to take a short break and retreat into his own head. His room aboard the </span>
  <span>helicarrier</span>
  <span> is quiet enough, and he wonders if they took into consideration his enhanced hearing. That can make falling asleep tough sometimes, being able to hear every little sound. This isn’t so bad though.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve strips and folds his uniform, settling it neatly in the dresser. He grabs some spare clothes and stares for a moment or two at the bright blue suit hanging untouched among them. He may never be ready to play the part these people seem to want him to, but... that’s okay. Okay for him, at least and it seems to be okay for everyone else, too. That’s secondary, but he’s still glad.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Hot water might be limited up here in the air, and though Steve is more than used to showering under cold water, he does afford himself a bit more time than usual under the steaming stream. It feels good. There’s some soap, too, which he uses to scrub his hair and his body.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He wonders if anyone has brought food to Thor. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Loki did, probably. I hope. He knows where the cafeteria is. I hope nobody tried to stop him. </span>
  </em>
  <span>If Thor is stronger than Steve, then he’s probably hungrier, too. All power requires energy.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>One-hundred years...</span>
  </em>
  <span> Thor disappeared a hundred years ago. Steve wonders how many of those he spent under his master. He wonders how Barton managed to rescue Natasha from her own masters, and from her own mind. Steve’s always steered his own ship, even if life hasn’t always let him steer it where he wants it to go. At least he’s always been at the helm, making his own decisions based on what he thinks is right. Sure, he spent some time as a soldier following orders, but he had freedom within that, and he sure as hell defied those orders more than a few times. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What if Thor really is fighting for what he believes in? Not all soldiers can lead the charge. Some people have to be followers, and that’s alright. It’s okay to have the same beliefs as someone else and fight with them.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve doesn’t know Thor well enough to say, and he doesn’t know this cause, doesn’t know Thanos. The soldier steps out of the shower and dries off, walking out into his little living area to put on a clean pair of sweats and a t-shirt. What if Thor really does believe in what his master searches for? It doesn’t make those actions right, but it might make convincing Thor to act otherwise a whole lot harder.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Speculating is worth nothing at this point. Steve ruffles his hair with the towel one last time and crawls into bed. It’s a bit early for him, and he needs so little sleep, but he feels like he could drift off. Maybe he’ll just give in.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>--</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve wakes up in a glass cage. His senses are immediately bombarded with lights and sounds, with the smell of ethanol and a cold breeze on his sensitive skin. People swirl around him, their shapes distorted as if underwater, even though Steve’s the one who’s underwater.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He feels wet, but his body is dry. He feels cold, but he’s covered in sweat and panting like a dog under a hot summer sun. He can hardly move, his limbs dragging and stalling, strangely weak. Steve pulls himself up, staggering to the edge of the cylindrical cage and opening his mouth to call for help. The people outside have no faces, though he knows who they are deep down. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>knows</span>
  </em>
  <span> who that woman is, by the shape of her face and the color of her hair. Someone’s sister, he thinks. Oh, and that man behind her, a friend of his! Steve opens his mouth to yell, but no sound comes out, and the faceless people laugh though they have no mouths.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He’s all alone, segregated in this small cage in the middle of a busy dance floor, on his knees because he can’t find the coordination or the strength to stand. Steve pounds the glass, but it doesn’t so much as creak.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>There, a face emerges at least, drawing right up to the glass. It’s his mother’s, almost ten years dead now, but his heart lurches because it wants to believe he could somehow see her one more time. She smiles and spins away, frail with illness in her last days just as he knew her, but beaming brightly with her usual calm cheer. Sarah Rogers was never exuberant, but she always made the best of life, always had hope and fight no matter what. Steve wouldn’t be the same without Sarah Rogers.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky swipes by next, a girl on each arm, all three of them grinning and having fun. Bucky’s in his uniform, the girls in dresses of blue and green. One of those poor girls would have been coerced into going on a double-date with Steve, neither of them nor Steve all that interested. Before the serum, at least. Steve was never interested in the girls Bucky tried to convince to give him a chance.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>There had only ever been one girl he’d felt for, and that was Peggy. Here she comes now, splattering everything she touches in scarlet as she prowls toward the cage in her bright dress. She smiles at him and gives him a little wave, but moves right along. She takes that vibrant red with her, leaving him alone in his blank, sterile cell. He has nothing, no-one, just a suit that doesn’t fit like it used to. Steve falls away from the window, but he can’t turn away from the ballroom because the glass wraps all the way around. All he can do is curl up and hide his head, but it doesn’t block out the sounds. He can hear Peggy’s confident laugh, Bucky’s casual jabs, his mother’s tender calls. He’s glad the war is over, but at least while he was fighting it he had friends at his side. At least while he was trapped in the middle of poverty and sickness, he had a mother and brother.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The people he used to know smile as they pass, but they don’t say a word to him, and don’t appear to be able to hear him. He’s just a memory to them. Nothing more. Their time to spend together is long gone. Steve draws in his knees and hides his face in them, pressing tightly against the glass to get as close as possible to the people he misses.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>This is a dream, he </span>
  <span>know</span>
  <span> it. Everything is too real, yet not all at once. With the help of the serum on top of his own vivid imagination, he can create worlds in his head that are beyond life-like. Real life is chained down by what’s possible, but in his own head there are no limitation. Logic no longer matters, and his fears have free range to paint whatever gruesome images they want. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Let me wake up.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He wants to.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Sometimes the dream has to come to its natural end, which can sometimes mean death. Then, his mind will jolt him awake. Today, the cage starts to fill with ice-cold water, and Steve can’t move well enough to keep his head above and keep breathing. The cage cracks, but it only lets more water in, consuming more and more air. The process is painfully slow, but finally his vision goes black and he shoots awake, heaving sitting with a gasp.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He’s alive, and warm in bed. It’s the same night, the same century. Steve sighs and flops back, catching his breath. He remembers being frozen alive. With the serum, the process was much longer than it would have been for a normal person. The serum keeps him warm, accelerates his adrenaline to help him fight for longer. It wasn’t enough though, not then, not with the cockpit pinning his legs. He remembers the dark, alone save for the sound of creaking steel and rushing water.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve rubs his eyes and rolls out of bed, reaching for the light. He’s had similar dreams aplenty, and mixed in with a few other exciting tales, those dreams plague him every night. The class cage is new though.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor is in that right now, and Steve can’t imagine what that must be like, not being able to hide. No matter how fearless, all warriors </span>
  <span>need</span>
  <span> a space that’s their own. It’s not like there’s anywhere else they can keep a super-powered being, though... Hulk’s precautionary cage is the only spot. Steve sits on the edge of his bed and snorts to himself while he puts on his shoes and wonders how the hell Fury imagined getting the Hulk in there if things went sour.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>It seems rather cruel to stick this man in an empty cell with nothing to rest on. A chair, at least. Steve pauses in the middle of his little space and looks over at his small table, and the chair by it. That will do. He takes it and one of his blankets, striding for the door in confidence. It’s very early in the morning, so nobody should bother him. Still, he prepares his Captain America voice and squares his shoulders, ready to get where he needs to go. Those few night staff roaming the hallways keep well out of his way.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor sits in the middle of his cell, his posture slumped and his eyes shut. Steve doubts he’s asleep, but approaches the door as quietly as he can. He bundles the blanket onto the chair and walks to the control panel. The guard pays him no mind, and Loki appears to be nowhere in sight, so Steve opens the door and hurries over, sliding the chair through.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>With a spasm of muscle, Thor is on his feet. Steve barely makes it back to the control panel, smashing the button again. The door slides shut a second before Thor can get his fingers around the edge. With a hiss, the door seals seamlessly shut, and the two of them stare at each other. Thor stands by the glass heaving, his eyes dark and his stare predatory. He watches Steve very closely, and Steve holds perfectly still, his heart racing. This was potentially very stupid, and could have gone so, so wrong.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>But it hasn’t. Thor is still safely trapped in his cell, his cuffed wrists out in front of him and the flesh of his arms indented by the strain he’s putting on them as if to rip those cuffs apart. Finally, the alien glances to one side and catches sight of what Steve practically hurled into the cell. Somehow, the chair has landed upright, but the blanket has slid off onto the floor in a heap. Thor’s gaze is temporarily locked onto the sight with confusion, and Steve swallows as quietly as he can.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Then, the alien’s features crack into the tiniest of amused and disappointed smirks, snorting. He looks up and approaches the glass, straightening, all of him flexing like he’s trying to assert who is the bigger, stronger male. “Your tricks won’t work on me,” he practically spits.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The display doesn’t frighten Steve; he’s stared down guys hell-bent on tormenting him many times before the serum. He’s stormed into Hydra’s lair more than once, and punched the Red Skull himself right in the face. Displays of dominance really don’t affect him, certainly not with such a strong barrier separating them. What stalls him is the turmoil in the eyes glaring back at him. They’re confused, under all that desperation. That’s Thor’s first mistake, letting Steve stare so clearly into the windows of the soul, the blinds pulled back. Steve finds that fear Nat mentioned, and so much more. The solder walks closer, casually crossing his arms. “What makes you think it’s a trick?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“A gesture of good will, to lure me into trusting you,” Thor replies. “It will not work.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not a trick,” Steve reassures.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Then you are a very poor interrogator,” Thor spits back.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“We aren’t going to torture you,” Steve replies casually. “And if you won’t reply when we ask nicely, and you’re too good at deception to have it tricked out of you, we’ll just have to bide our time and let you tell us when you’re ready. You might be here a while.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor’s expression of scorn doesn’t suit him at all. “No star today,” he remarks, that fear rearing its head so ferociously it would be impossible to miss.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve knows this man is deflecting to keep his own insecurities safe, a clear sign that he’s still fighting for the upper hand. Steve’s not good at manipulation, but he is observant, so he stores all the information he stumbles upon for later. “Not at the moment,” he agrees. “I didn’t come here to fight.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that what you wear when you do?” Thor asks.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s my uniform,” Steve agrees, “just like that’s yours.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“They marked you and sent you to deal with me,” Thor replies.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>That’s exactly what SHIELD has done, but it’s not like that. Steve shakes his head. “It’s kind of a trademark,” he huffs to himself. To think that uniform started out as a costume. Maybe if he hadn’t asked Howard to redesign a more practical version for him, he wouldn’t have that ridiculous suit hanging in his wardrobe. At least the black one is fine. He kind of likes it.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“And you fight their battles,” Thor remarks. He’s searching for something, an angle to direct the focus from himself and gain the upper hand over Steve’s vulnerabilities. Thor’s trying to keep himself safe. It’s oh-so human.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Well, Steve can’t play that. Honesty is what he’s good at, so he goes along with it. “Sometimes,” he agrees. “When the fight is too dangerous.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“And why you? What makes you special?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Why does he bear a star while no-one else does? “The serum,” Steve replies without really thinking. “It’s a – a spell that makes me stronger.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>That’s a very bad description...</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor’s eyebrow twitches with curiosity. “Yet you are human.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Very,” Steve nods quickly.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You are strange,” Thor remarks, taking a couple of leisurely steps backward and staring at the chair more overtly. “Did you get what you came for?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I think I did,” Steve smiles. It doesn’t last long on his face, falling away as soon as he realizes Thor looks rather like a rescued dog contemplating whether or not it’s allowed to eat the food put in front of it. Like it’s been abused, and is waiting for punishment if it takes a step wrong. With trust comes betrayal and hurt. The soldier’s words aren’t a lie though: Steve hasn’t come for information, only to deliver his small token. He’s done that, and has no intention of trying to drag information out of the prisoner. Not right now.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe never. What tactics would be necessary to extract what they need from Thor? Some clever word-play and a keen eye? There are ways to break the alien, and Steve is sure that Natasha or Loki would know how to do it, since one is a master spy and the other a close relative. Together, they would be able to find Thor’s weaknesses, and break him apart until the desired info spills free. Steve’s not willing to try, even if he had the skill to do it, and he’s certain Loki and Natasha would agree with him too. Neither of them wants to inflict harm – emotional harm would be worse than physical.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Neither man has anything more to say; Steve doesn’t want to pester, and Thor appears too perplexed to ask any more questions or make any jabs. The alien stands still, watching Steve as the soldier walks away. Resisting the urge to check the security feed, Steve instead heads down to the gym to occupy himself until morning.</span>
  
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks for your comments, y'all, enjoy B) It's fightin' time.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Thor doesn’t need much sleep, not compared to humans anyway. Their days and nights are short, so he can stay awake for many, many of them. He can ward off sleep for a very long time. He’s also a light sleeper, which means if someone does try to harm him while he’s resting, he’ll wake up before they can.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>It does not appear that the humans intend to harm him, though. Not physically. So far, none have ventured into the cell. Of course, Thor could easily incapacitate them, even with his hands restrained, so that must play a factor. But Loki is here. Loki can put him to sleep with his magic spells, maybe even paralyze his body and leave him aware but unable to act. That very thought sends a shiver down his spine, and he has to sit before his legs give way. He feels sick and cold and shaky just thinking about such a thing. Sitting helps though. He peers down at the blanket on the floor and contemplates picking it up. If he wraps himself up in it like he wants, the star-marked one will have the upper hand.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He cannot trust a single one of them, regardless of what they say. They aren’t torturing him because they believe they can coax out what they need in other ways. Thor can outlast them. </span>
  <span>Thanos</span>
  <span> will come for him, and the plan will carry on. It would be preferable if he could finish what he was sent to do, because </span>
  <span>Thanos</span>
  <span> trusted him with it.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>It’s not ruined, just frustrating. Thor sighs and rubs his face, risking an overt display of emotion. His wrists are starting to get sore after spending so long in these cuffs. Loki’s done them up quite snug, and Thor’s tugged on them a few times, sometimes by accident, other times on purpose to assert dominance. Unfortunately, these earthlings don’t seem that intimidated. Not the Black Widow, not the man in the flying metal suit, not the star-marked one. Thor sighs again, supposing the only thing he can really do it meditate. The stiller he holds, the less information they can read from his posture. But if he sleeps, he’ll dream for certain, and that can’t lead to anything good.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>--</span>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Thor wakes up on his back, soft pillows under his head and shoulders, warm blankets tucked around him. His headache is better, and waking up is less of a fight. He blinks open his eyes and sit slowly, tucking some hair over both ears and taking a look around. This new room is much better furnished; the bed is more comfortable, the blankets thicker and warmer, the pillows more generous. Shelves adorn the walls, and there’s a cupboard for clothes, as well as a little table to eat at. A chair. There’s a door leading into what Thor soon discovers is a bathroom of sorts, when he climbs out of bed on shaky legs to explore.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He feels stronger, more like himself, and getting up is much easier than yesterday. That ache in his joints and lungs is fading. It’s easier to think, easier to move altogether. Thor peers around his new room as he goes for the bathroom. The mirror quickly reveals his shaggy hair, and he sets right to wetting it in the sink and smoothing it out with his fingers. He washes his face and peels off his shirt, soaking it and scrubbing his chest. The mere act of moving around has kick-started his metabolism, and it won’t take long at all, with his physiology, to regain his lost weight. </span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Thor leaves his shirt by the sink and works out the last few knots, tying enough locks from the sides to keep it out of his face. He takes one last look at his face, at his tired eyes, before leaving his reflection behind in search of food. Fatigue and weakness are the only symptoms of his time spent drifting in a vacuum, apparently. It’s a relief to see upon closer inspection that his skin is untarnished.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>How long will it take to reach </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Asgard</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> in this ship? Thor mulls over that as he has a look around his room. He finds some food on a shelf, something non-perishable that looks like dried fruit, and sits on the edge of his bed to eat it. It tastes good. Thor chews in silence and kicks his legs, glancing up at the door. Is it locked? Possibly. Thor supposes these people don’t know if he could be a threat. They have no reason to trust him.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Feeling steadier for the food, Thor risks a little hop off the bed and lands squarely on his feet. Curiously, he pads to the cupboard and opens the doors, sliding out the rack inside. The armor he arrived in is neatly arranged inside, but Thor leaves it behind and chooses something else. He’s not in the mood to walk around in his usual armor. Besides these other fabrics will be more comfortable than leather. This grey shirt with gold thread stitched into the collar and sleeves is snug but smooth against his skin. The sleeves reach mid-bicep, and it fastens up the front. There’s a pair of black pants to match, with similar gold stitching and decoration. Simple, but quite pleasing. All of it fits, even the boots left for him. Thor bends to fasten them, feeling better yet again when he straightens. He likes the feeling of cloth hugging his muscles, a reminder that he’s still strong. He’ll recover. He can recover from anything.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>With confidence, he walks to the door and pulls it open. Proxima Midnight stands in wait, one hip cocked and her spear in-hand. She pushes out the other hip and peers down at him, her pupils bursting wider for a short moment. “Good morning, strong one,” she rasps. “You look better.”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Feel better,” he replies obediently, eying her carefully. Battle senses honed for centuries flare, but he remembered </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>’ words, that Midnight is one of his trusted children, and that Thor is under his protection too. If </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> trusts Midnight, then surely the prince can too. Thanos has been nothing but caring and welcoming, not to mention he must have carried Thor to bed when he collapsed. Must have tucked him in. Thor hasn’t been tucked into bed in decades.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Come,” she orders, reaching for his arm. “</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> will be pleased to see you.”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>At that, Thor accepts Midnight’s grip on his arm with a bit more willingness. Today, he can keep up with her strides, and holds his chin high and his shoulders straight. He’s a prince, and knows how to behave like one.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> waits for him on the bridge, seated in his chair like yesterday. He turns at the sound of their entry and stands with a welcoming smile, walking over and placing his hand on top of Thor’s head as he did before. Thor leans into it a bit, welcoming of the gesture. “You look well, strong one.” His eyes dart to the borrowed outfit Thor’s wearing, and approval glints in his eyes. Only for a brief moment.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Thor smiles a bit. “Thank you. And for bringing me to bed yesterday.”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Of course,” </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> seems pleased. Midnight draws back and leaves, and </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> lands a hand on Thor’s shoulder. “Let’s have something to eat.”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Willing, Thor follows. Intrigued, he takes in every detail he can about his temporary home. He’s never seen a ship like it, though he has seen many varieties of space vessel. He can confidently say, however, that it is the largest ship he’s ever seen.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> catches his wandering eyes and smiles. “Do you have ships where you come from?”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Thor nods. “Some. Our people have other means of travel. Or... we did.” The bi-frost is destroyed. He falls solemn again. It will take more than a week floating in space to be purged of the sadness brought on by his feud with his brother. He misses Loki. Misses his whole family. Are they looking for him? He knows they are. Well, they need not worry about him. He wishes he could send them a message and let them knows he’s alright, that he’s found a way home.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>’ large hand lands on Thor’s back, his expression softening. “I will ensure you find your place.” </span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>To which Thor nods without thinking. It’s just so relieving to have someone here to help. Someone who doesn’t know of </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Asgard</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> and its prince.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Tell me about your planet,” </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> prompts, breaking the cultivating silence.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Well...” Thor smiles sadly. “It is truly beautiful. Perhaps I am biased toward my homeland, but I have never been to one as beautiful as Asgard. You can see galaxies even in daytime.”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“It does sound wonderful,” </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> agrees. “You mentioned a brother. Would you tell me about him?”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Loki,” Thor’s smile renews. “We haven’t always seen eye-to-eye, but I love him, and I know he loves me. We were... fighting. I am destined for the throne, and he thought himself the rightful heir. Perhaps he is right... Had I behaved differently this may never have happened.” </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> hasn’t asked for details, but Thor’s can’t help but share them. He’s got a lot to get off his chest.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> calmly and compassionately listens, nodding slowly and encouraging the prince to vent. “You fought, and fell.”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Off the rainbow bridge,” Thor agrees quietly. “He never meant to... I wasn’t aware of my surroundings. Father would be </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>disappointed</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> in my lack of awareness.” He huffs humorlessly to himself.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“We gather many lost things,” </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> gives a smile. “Plenty of which find homes here. You are not alone.”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>A wayward dribble streaks down his face. Thor reaches to wipe it away, nodding gratefully until he can find his voice. “Thank you,” he rasps.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> is understanding, coaxing him to speak more about his family on the way to the leader’s chambers, and once inside eating. Thor feels better as he speaks, though sometimes his own thoughts surprise him. He eats, and feels stronger. This is a safe space, here in </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>’ spacious yet humble quarters. Nothing is much more luxurious than Thor’s own generously-lent room. Free to speak, Thor talks about </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Asgard</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>, and the people who live there. He talks about his friends and family, and of great battles. Thanos listens intently, and Thor’s not sure he’s ever had someone listen like that. Thanos asks with intrigue, too, about his family in particular. Thor happily embarks on tales of fond memories about his mother and brother. There aren’t so many of his father – his time with the All-father has always been riddled with expectation.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Finally, he explains his recent feud in detail, about how he made a mistake and his father cast him aside and abandoned him on Earth to learn his lesson. A valuable lesson, yes, but a method that had left him feeling so cast aside. “Loki always felt this way,” he admits quietly. “It’s fair for me to feel the same.”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“No father should cast aside their children like that,” </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> shakes his head in disappointment. “And no father should raise children doomed to resent each other.”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Perhaps </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> is right: Loki was always destined to resent Thor in some way, being the adopted child, the younger son. One was always destined to take the throne, and that was always to be Thor. When had Loki realized that? What did it feel like to fight and fight but never be good enough?</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Thor can relate to that, at least a little; Thor had always been expected to be the stronger son, the perfect warrior. As all men do, he fell short on more than one occasion. </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>So</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> he fought harder and harder to make his father proud, to become the best fighter of his kingdom, and in the Nine Realms. He heaves a sigh and rubs his face, weary just thinking about his distant family, and his distant past. </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Of course</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> he’s privileged to be a prince and to live in a golden castle, but he’s suffered other hardships. </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> validates all of them as they come out, as well as some that don’t. At least not from his mouth. Thor gets the feeling </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> is picking up on a lot.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Then again, Thor has never been the master deceiver like Loki. </span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I think a tour is in order,” </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> stands and kindly offers his hand, “so you can find your way around the ship without an escort. Then once your food has settled, you might like to spar with some of my own warriors. I can see you are one yourself, strong one.”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Thor takes the hand and grins, flexing as he straightens. “That I am.”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m intrigued,” </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> leads the way, and Thor happily follows.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Soon enough, he’s in some kind of large training hall, the walls lined with weapons and the floor occupied by a pair of Thanos’ followers – more of his children, his proteges? - and Midnight standing over them. She’s training them, by the looks of things. Thanos stops, and Thor follows suit, happy to hold back and watch the proceedings. Midnight shows no restraint in correcting the wrongs of her students, demonstrating the moves with brutality to show them where they’ve gone wrong. They get back up, try again, this time better. She lets them go and looks up, noticing </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>. When her eyes land to Thor, she sinks a little further into her hips as she walks.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>A small nod of respect is offered to </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>, then a stare of peculiar intensity for Thor. “Welcome,” she purrs. “I was expected you. Warriors like us cannot be still for too long.” She peers up to Thanos, as if for permission, and the large hand on Thor’s shoulder draws back.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Midnight steps closer eagerly, and Thor holds his ground, staring back at her. “I could spare to stretch my legs,” he agrees. “I have been asleep for too long.”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Midnight chuckles at that and takes his arm. “Come, then. I will be pleased to spar with you, strong one.”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Thor goes. He hopes he won’t be slowed down too badly by his still slightly-weakened state. Now is his time to show off the strength of </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Asgard’s</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> prince, and one its strongest warriors. If only he had his hammer... That’s fine. He doesn’t need it right now. He imagines its floating through space, and too far away to arrive in time. He’ll call for it later.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Midnight invites him to join her. The floor is polished metal, but then Asgardians train on hard stone or thin dirt, so this is no less forgiving. Thor taps the toes of his boots as he walks, and scuffs the toe to feel their grip on this surface. They’re extremely good combat boots, and won’t take much to get used to at all. The clothes he’s wearing don’t restrict his movement at all, and are comfortable as they move against his skin. He stands proud and ready to accept this challenge, very aware of Thanos’ gaze upon them.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>With no preface, Midnight attacks. Her long legs carry her straight for him, closing the distance in moments. She bears no weapons herself, but she doesn’t need one. With teeth bared in a grin, she swiped out a simple punch.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Just a punch. Thor can defend against that. He whips up his arm, more than ready for her strength – the god of thunder can handle it. Only, her hand curls around his wrist upon impact, imprisoning his arm. She pulls, yanking him toward her and spinning him into her embrace. With his shoulders pressed into her chest, her leg slides out and hooks around his ankle, but Thor yells and hauls himself upward by the hips. He’s easily strong and lithe enough to flip his legs over both their heads and put himself back in control, bringing her down and landing on his feet.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The move isn’t enough to win him the fight. Midnight is already moving with her new momentum and adding to it. She lets herself fall, leading with her shoulders, and yanks him down with her. Then, she bucks her hips and wraps her legs around his neck. With her shoulders firmly planted on the floor, she pivots from them and twists his whole head with her hips, throwing him forward. The move is powerful, and Thor actually flies forward. It’s not enough to hurt him though. He strikes the floor on his shoulder and rolls, righting himself as quickly as he can and diving sideways in anticipation of her attack. Midnight has indeed lunged to him, but he manages to evade it.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The following attack catches him; Midnight dives toward him and follows his next sideways roll to evade her. She loops her arm through his and spins him, throwing him into the ground as she does. His head bounces off the metal flooring hard enough to dent it.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Still, he gets up, and she lets him, watching with amusement. She has plenty of time to swipe her tongue over her lips as Thor gathers himself and shakes out his head, blowing loose hair from his face. His tie has come free. While fancy flips aren’t his strong suit, flurries of punches he can definitely handle; that’s what she throws at him next, a series of rapid-fire attacks that aren’t particularly elaborate, but come so fast and powerfully it actually takes effort to block and dodge them. Asgardians are made strong though, so his forearms can take her axe kicks, her spinning jump kicks, her punches. He can parry her with his legs, finally putting his own spin on the block and countering her spin with his own. She’s lost her momentum, and he capitalizes on that by swinging around his fist. </span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Thor’s punch strikes her in the face, and he draws blood. She reels, visibly dazed but still standing. He can’t tell if her teeth and clenched in a grin or a grimace – she shakes her head clear and fixed her stare on him, retaliating before he has the chance to follow up his attack. He’s about to land a kick into her stomach and take her down, but she grabs his leg in firm hands and jumps, putting a spin on it and whipping his leg like a whip. There aren’t many people who can take the full force of an Asgardian punch and stay standing, nor are there many who can land a blow that can actually hurt his kind. This certainly hurts, and it lands him on the ground. Midnight still has hold of his leg, wrenching it around and forcing him to roll onto his back by the hip joint.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Asgardians can fight through anything. Thor grits his teeth and starts to lift his other leg to throw her off. She turns out of the way of his kicking foot and catches his first flying fist, then the other, digging her fingers into a soft spot in his wrists and pushing his arms down to the ground. Now her lips are definitely curled into a grin; Midnight comes in real close, letting go of one fist to clutch his throat. Her fingers dig into the muscles and her hand presses down on his airways. He can hear his pulse beating in his ears as its trapped by her compressing grip. Even Asgardians need air to breathe. Without his hammer, without his power, she’s the more skilled warrior. She’s won, and his struggling isn’t working. One leg is tingling, and the other is waving useless in the air, trying to throw her off. He physically can’t dislodge her, and she’s still squeezing.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The world is going black. Surely, she’ll let him up soon. This is just a casual sparring match, no stakes, just for fun. </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Surely</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> she can tell that she’s won.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It doesn’t matter. There’s a glint in her eyes that he doesn’t like, though it’s steadily getting blurrier and blurrier, darker and darker. He opens his mouth to submit, admit his loss, plead for her to let go, but he can’t speak. He can barely croak, and immediately after his pathetic wheeze escapes, Midnight tightens her grip with a jolt and a glimmer in her cat-like eyes. There is no mercy there.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Thor’s struggles grow weaker, and his thoughts grow fainter and less anchored. He doesn’t know what comes next. Unconsciously, his hand reaches for Mjolnir.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Enough.” </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> orders faintly from the sidelines. His tone is firm, but he doesn’t have to yell to be obeyed. Midnight lets go immediately and slides back a step. Thor doesn’t see her expression because he’s too busy coughing and struggling to sit so he can breathe better. He clutches his throat, desperate for oxygen. He’s too breathless to feel the shame or embarrassment that would likely come from losing a fight in his own kingdom. </span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Instead of disappointment, he gets a large, warm hand between his shoulder blades, holding him sitting. So much as been expected of him in his own realm, that he </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>live</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> up to his father’s vision for him. A whole kingdom rests on his performance.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Not here. Here, there’s only </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>’ calm voice asking him to breathe. “We will speak later,” he says to Midnight, and her footsteps recede. It’s just him and Thor in the room now, just a gentle voice and Thor’s own heartbeat and rasping breaths to listen to as he recovers. </span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Luckily, it doesn’t take too long, and he manages to breathe smoothly again, rubbing his throat protectively. The prince stubbornly wedges his other arm under himself and sits off </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>’ hand, pushing to his feet. His leg is sore, but nothing his physiology can’t fix in a day. He’s had whole buildings dropped on him and not cracked a bone. A strong twist can’t cripple him.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It does hurt though, his pride and his body. </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> lessens the blow to the former just by remaining so unjudging. He follows Thor standing and offers tentative support while they both decide how steady the demigod is. In the end, Thor manages to remain upright, rattled but unharmed. Nothing permanent, at least. He leans a little into the supporting hand wrapped around his bicep, rubbing his face. After what he’s been through recently, this doesn’t frighten him.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I didn’t think she would go that far,” </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> finally speaks, guiding toward the door with a slight tug.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Thor submits. “You said you trusted her,” he says quietly, staring ahead and swallowing roughly.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I do,” </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> confirms. “She can go too far sometimes. I did not expect her to hurt you.”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m alright,” Thor replies automatically.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You are strong,” </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> assures. “An impressive warrior. Your father must be proud to have such a strong prince.”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Thor gives a soulless laugh, unsure. Is his father proud of him? There have always been such high expectations of him, but he’s never been sure if he’s met them. He is a prince, after all, so those expectations make sense. If he’s to carry the weight of not only Asgard, but all nine realms on his shoulders, they must be broad shoulders indeed.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Rest,” </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> requests. “I will ensure that food is brought to you.”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>They’re at Thor’s room, suddenly. The door is opened for him, and he’s guided for his bed. “Thank you,” Thor says quietly. “I’m alright.”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I know,” </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> smiles at him. “Just rest. You’ve not yet recovered. I will bring you some dinner, then perhaps we can discuss your return home.”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>That sounds nice. Thor smiles back. “Thank you,” he repeats. Yes, that will be good.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> leaves him to rest.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>--</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor wakes up the sound of crashing and shouting. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but he jolts fully awake now, in a matter of seconds. He shoots to his feet and does a quick scan, pleased to find that no-one save for a solitary guard is here. That guard is looking around, weapon raised, calling over his headset for precautionary backup.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>They’ve come for him, his mind-controlled fleet. Thor nudges the chair away from the door and waits, senses alert. He warned these humans, and his patience has paid off. Two of his borrowed SHIELD agents arrive before backup can, punching down the guard and approaching the cell. One keeps look-out while the other activates the control panel. The door slides open, and Thor steps out.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The air is a little fresher outside, cooler and sweeter and not so filtered. Thor strains his cuffs, and the metal groans. He grits his teeth and pulls harder, putting some real effort into it. These cuffs were designed for normal Asgardians, but Thor is stronger even than the rest of his people. They can’t hold the god of thunder. Indeed, the cuffs snap through the middle, and he rips them off his wrists.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Team C is retrieving the scepter,” one agent explains, turning to lead the way out of the room. “We have jets in the air ready to take you.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Loki is still on board. Thor curls his lip and rubs his wrists. The Widow is somewhere here too, the one who showed him that hundred-year-old photo. He’s angry. Maybe he should help his team finish their other mission before leaving, and if he runs into the </span>
  <span>Widow</span>
  <span> he wouldn’t mind following through with some of those threats she dismissed. She’ll soon see. They’ll </span>
  <em>
    <span>all</span>
  </em>
  <span> see. “Where are the other teams?” he asks.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Team B is causing a distraction and keeping the heat away from you,” the agents explains. “And Team A is here to extract you -”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The guard slumped at his post groans and lifts his wrist. “Captain... Captain Rogers to the containment cell. Loki and Captain Rogers-”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>One agent walks over and deals a knock-out punch, but it’s too late. They have to go. Loki and one Captain Rogers have been summoned. The others Thor can fight off, but if he gets too close his brother will put him to sleep, and that will be that. These SHIELD agents won’t be a match for Loki. The agents start to run, and Thor jogs along easily. “Where is Team C?” he asks. They need the scepter to continue. If they leave without it, the plan will become </span>
  <span>unnecessarily</span>
  <span> more complicated. The last thing they need is another unknown.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Infiltrating the lab,” one agent replies, the one leading this team. He sweeps his gun, peeking round corners. Agents guarding passageways and staircases usher them through. The unconscious bodies of those not under the scepter’s control litter the hallways, while footsteps ring out all around them. There’s a lot of distant yelling and various other sounds of chaos, but Thor can filter it and search the sound-scape for anything that poses an immediate threat.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The ship lurches to one side. “What was that?” Thor demands.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Engine one is down,” the team leader says.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Good. Creating wide-spread problems will in-turn spread out SHIELD’s resources, and they can escape.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Agent Barton is compromised,” the other agent looks up. “Black Widow has engaged him. Outcome is uncertain.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Barton is one of his most useful assets. “I’ll deal with this,” Thor growls. “Lead me.” The benefit of having inside men means they know the layout of the </span>
  <span>helicarrier</span>
  <span> just as well as the enemy.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>No-one argues, and if it interferes with their plan, they don’t give any indication. If Black Widow apprehends Barton, the enemy will have access to more information, especially if they find a way to remove the hold of the mind stone.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>It doesn’t take long to close in on the battling spies. Thor takes the lead and steps onto the gangway, waving back the other agents. He’s too late: </span>
  <span>the</span>
  <span> Widow is already slamming Barton’s head into the railing. He struggles, disoriented, but she strikes him down with one last punch and he goes limp. The Widow straightens and flicks hair from her eyes, facing them fully. There’s a flash of alarm in her eyes, but it’s quickly stifled. Dressed in some jogging pants and a black tank top, she’s weaponless.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Only for a second. The Widow kicks Barton’s fallen knife into her hand and prepares herself for another fight, touching her ear. “This is Romanoff, I have eyes on Thor. Anyone copy?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Someone copies, but he can’t make out the words, only that a voice responds. “Watch for backup,” Thor orders his men. “Alert me if Loki arrives.” He can take care of the Widow before her help gets here, and then they can be on their way to freedom. He will not disappoint </span>
  <span>Thanos</span>
  <span>.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>His men step back to guard the entrance, and the Widow flips the knife to a back-hand grip, sinking into her feet. Thor expects her to attack, but instead she turns and runs. Foolish, turning her back on the enemy, not to mention wasting energy on trying to outrun someone so much faster than she is. He could outpace her with his longer legs, not to mention his added strength and stamina. She’ll exhaust herself before he’s barely breached what he considers a leisurely jog. Still, she’s smaller than he is, and nimble. He’ll give her that. Putting some more speed into his strides, he starts to close the gap while he carefully watches her movements.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>She’s good. She hops off the gangway and down some steps, whipping around a corner with such confidence that he doesn’t slow either. She’s not turned a corner as all, but led him around a water tank and straight into a wall. At this speed, all he can do is raise his arms and lead through with his shoulders. The rivets pop and the segment of wall crumples. Thor flies through into a small storage hangar, and the Widow is nowhere to be seen. Thor kicks the piece of wall and it slides away with a screech. He straightens and looks around at the surprised maintenance workers dropping their tools and backing for the exits. Any second now, the Widow will come flying out of a corner. He knows it.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor clenches his jaw and runs his hand up his skull under his neat ponytail, listening. She can’t have gotten in here if he went through the wall, so she must still be on the other side. He turns for the hole he’s made and stalks toward it.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Boots swing through the gap from above, the Widow shortly behind. Her small body is suddenly quite firmly wrapped around his neck, and he’s toppling from the momentum she throws into the move. Acrobatically, the knife still in hand, she rolls away from his fallen form and takes that opportunity to slash with the weapon. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor raises his arm to protect his ribs, and the blade slashes his forearm. It wouldn’t have struck his heart, but it would have cut between his ribs and into his lung. That would slow him down for sure. As it stands, the cut she’s landed is shallow, and stops bleeding almost immediately. She stabs out again, and he blocks her wrist with his, kicking out. She doesn’t try to block, keeping well away from his attacks as she backs up to the middle of the storage hangar.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I admire your courage,” Thor takes slow steps to </span>
  <span>close</span>
  <span> the gap. “But you cannot win. Surrender, and I will spare you. On your knees.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Her eyebrow jumps, but she doesn’t break focus or even appear to consider the offer. “It doesn’t have to be this way.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You give me no choice.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You always have a choice,” she counters. She flips the knife to a forehand grip, like she knows he won’t be talked out of anything. At least she’s smart enough to see that.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He’s going to finish this off swiftly. Thor runs for her, knowing he can move faster than she can. Whatever training she has, it will never compete with his, nor can her physiology. It’s a stacked fight, even if she’s clever. Still, Thor doesn’t let himself underestimate her. He anticipates her response, ready to change course as she stands her ground to meet him. The Widow jumps over his head as he lunges and her feet land on his back. She uses him like a spring board and leaps like a cat into the rafters. They’re high up, but she can reach – her timing is perfect, her jump synced with his rapid straightening which launches her up. It would have been enough, if he hadn’t whirled and caught her by the ankle. Thor takes hold of her leg and whips her into the ground.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>She’s tough for a human. The Widow’s cry is stifled by the breathless gush squeezing it off, but she’s quick to roll in anticipation of a follow-up move. The knife has fallen from her grip, out of reach. Thor holds up his and pounces on her, staring deep into her eyes as he does. Something red and shiny reflects back.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>It comes from above. The clang and subsequent bright pain at the back of his head are less than a second behind. Thor’s grip on his blade wavers, and his eyes flash with black dots. He staggers back to avoid any blows delivered in weakness, looking up to catch sight of the redhead on her feet, a familiar shield in-hand. The shield that must have </span>
  <span>ricocheted</span>
  <span> off the ceiling and into his head. Thor throws his knife, but the Widow knocks it aside with the shield, draws back her arm, and throws it over his shoulder. Before he can turn, a body flies into him from behind, catching the shield and bowling him over.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>They roll and untangle, Thor shaking out the last dancing dots tainting his vision. Dressed in jogging pants and a tight t-shirt, the star-marked one rises, shield in-hand, golden bangs mussed and flopped against his forehead. He steals a glance at his companion, who has already gotten herself out of the way, to make sure she’s alright. Then he’s all-eyes on the fight at-hand.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor draws his other knife. He’ll go through this man, too.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The blonde lifts up on bare feet, balanced and ready to spring forward. He’s measuring the space with glances so quick no ordinary person would be able to process any information gathered. Maybe not even Thor.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>It’s only fair to present the same options to everyone. “Surrender, and I will spare you,” Thor orders. “Put down the shield.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s not going to happen,” the blonde replies steadily, just as unfazed as his companion.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not afraid to harm you.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not afraid to get harmed.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I could kill you.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You could try.” The blonde flexes the arm in his shield straps. “You don’t have to do this.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You all seem to think this can be talked through. It cannot. There is no bargain, no co-operation. Struggle for the upper-hand all you like. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Thor really wants to get his fist in the blonde’s face again, knock him down. He’ll show them all that they should have surrendered, that his threats are not to be taken lightly. He’ll give one last chance for this man to see reason. “Stand down, or I will kill you if I must.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The blonde has had enough of chatter, and frankly so has Thor. Enough formality – neither of them are going to stand down. Thor flips the knife in his hand and catches it by the tip, hurling it with deadly </span>
  <span>accuracy</span>
  <span> at the blonde’s unprotected legs, then lunging to the side and rolling toward his other dropped knife and the Widow’s own. The blonde can’t slide his bare feet on the floor, but he can jump, twisting his body and putting all that momentum into his shield throw. The disk sails over Thor’s head, but the demigod shoots up his arm to deflect the shot, remembering how well the warrior can bounce his weapon around the room. The shield </span>
  <span>deflects</span>
  <span> off his arm and </span>
  <span>buries</span>
  <span> itself in the side of a jet like it was butter.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>A knife in each hand, Thor meets the soldier’s charge with forehand stabs and backhand slashes. With perfectly coordinated blocks, the blonde defends with his forearms, turning his hips to position himself. Back and forth, flesh on flesh, the blonde parries his attacks with his bare arms, one after the others. It’s nearly impossible to pivot skin on metal, so the blonde jumps when he finds his opening, landing on his other foot facing the way he wants to go. As a leg whips out, a hand curls around Thor’s wrist and pulls. Thor shoulder is yanked forward, and his stomach kicked back, straining the joint. The blonde is strong enough in that moment of surprise to twist the demigod’s arm further and force him to release one of his knives. It falls and the blonde catches it, throwing it far behind them where it slides under a parked jet, well out of reach.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>With a precise kick, the blonde puts all his power into his heel and lands the blow right into Thor’s wrist. The knife falls free, but that’s alright, because he’s already punching with his other hand. The blow grazes the blonde in the cheekbone, immediately drawing blood. The blonde handles it, undoing the spin the blow put on him and coming around with his own retaliatory blow. He ducks Thor’s next punch and slides his leg between Thor’s, kicking into the back of his ankle. A naked fist catches him in the eye socket and knocks him all the way down.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The blonde wraps himself around Thor arm and starts to turn, but Thor just throws him off, grabs an arm in return and throws the enemy down just as he did the Widow. But the blonde only grunts, despite the dent he’s left in the floor, quickly fighting to right himself and unwind the twist Thor’s putting on his arm. Frustrated, Thor catches a swinging leg and lifts his enemy off the ground, throwing him down once more. The blonde is dazed enough that Thor finds himself a minute opening – it's all he needs. He dives in, grabbing a wrist and twisting it to the breaking point, pushing it into the floor. He digs his knee into the blonde’s stomach and grabs him by the throat.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The blonde struggles, unsurprisingly, but he’s pinned. He opens his mouth to speak, but Thor squeezes harder and cuts him off. “Surrender,” he growls. He pushes the wrist a bit harder into the floor, adds some pressure to the knee jammed into clenched abs.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“N-no,” the blonde chokes. “You- you won’t.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you really their best?” Thor scoffs. “The man these people depended on to protect them from me? Beg.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“N-no.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Beg.</span>
  </em>
  <span>" Thor growls, bringing his face closer and adjusting his fingers to squeeze the arteries on either side.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Won’t,” the blonde croaks, his eyes hazy but fearless. “Won’t... kill...”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Humans are ever stubborn, though perhaps this one more than the others. He seems to be. He’s got that particular stubborn glint, his gritting his teeth as if awards are given to the most tenacious. The only prize he’ll ever get is what Thor’s about to give him.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He stalls. He could crush this man’s throat. A flex of muscle, and he could crush the windpipe pressed into his palm. He could squeeze a bit harder and cut off all blood flow. He could probably rip out that throat entirely. He’s strong enough. The blonde can still breathe, at least a little. Not much, but enough to hold on a bit longer. With shaking fingers, Thor stares down. Steadily-glazing blue eyes stare right back, challenging him to finish it. Though he growls back, the demigod can’t bring himself to end this. He can’t even force his other hand to break that wrist in his grip, or his knee to press even harder into a heaving stomach. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>They hang there suspended in the rush of pumping blood. Thor pants, his prisoner wheezes. They hang a few moments too long. A whistle aims for his ear, but it’s too late to duck. Something hard and gold cracks him in the side of the head, knocking him right off the blonde and onto his side. Loki looms over him, the All-father's spear in one hand, and the scepter in the other. The scepter he drops, swinging the spear again and driving Thor into the ground with a blow to the base of his neck.</span>
  
  <span>Fingers reach out before he can </span>
  <span>bat</span>
  <span> them clumsily away, grasping his forehead. A spell is uttered, and he drops into darkness.</span>
  
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Natasha’s given Barton one hell of a concussion. While fighting to contain Thor, some SHIELD agents managed to drag him off to a secure room, along with any other of their mind-controlled fellows. Right now, Loki is helping round up the rest and releasing them with his scepter while Tony and Bruce guard the sleeping Thor back in his cell. The spell will last long enough for Loki to finish freeing every last one of the imprisoned agents.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you okay?” Steve looks down at Natasha as they walk along. She’s holding his arm just to take some weight off her sore ankle, though it appears that Thor didn’t break it in his grip. “You should let someone look you over.” Her shoulder and ribs, and likely her hip </span>
  <span>are</span>
  <span> going to be very bruised.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m okay,” she shakes her head. “I need to check on Clint first.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve nods. He’d want the same in her position, so he lends her his arm and guides her through the throngs of people rushing back and forth. Everyone is too busy to pay them much attention, but luckily the damage caused by the attack is strikingly minimal. No-one was killed or crippled, and the worst injuries are a couple of broken bones. It’s </span>
  <span>unbelievable</span>
  <span>, implausible, and beyond lucky. Steve can’t help but think about that as he keeps walking, as much as he wants to just count them fortunate that their current crisis is a shortage of ice packs.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You should get someone to look you over too,” Natasha peers up at him, at his throat. It’s already swollen, and the bruises will be nearly fully developed by now, so it probably looks awful.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m alright,” Steve replies with a smile and a mildly raspy voice. “Nothin’ serious. Can breathe fine.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He nearly killed you,” she sighs and shakes her head. “That was a risky gamble.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wasn’t a gamble,” Steve shakes his head right back. “I knew he wouldn’t do it. Well, I didn’t know for sure, but I took an educated guess.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A reckless guess,” Natasha’s eyebrow quirks, and it reminds him of Bucky, of his days jumping into fights impossible to win.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve shrugs. “The serum would have fixed it. Besides, I knew Loki was almost there. And it’s not like I </span>
  <em>
    <span>let</span>
  </em>
  <span> him strangle me.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” Natasha says. “You’re really sure he </span>
  <span>wouldn’t</span>
  <span> have killed you?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You saw him,” the soldier replies solemnly. “He didn’t want to. It wasn’t in his nature.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You can make a person do a lot of things with the right twist, no matter how against their nature it is,” she reasons knowingly.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It was worth the risk,” Steve argues. “Serum would have fixed it anyway, but he hesitated. That’s something to work with, at least. A sign that whoever he was a hundred years ago is still in there.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s not much of anything to go off of,” Natasha replies.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, but it’s worth something. It’s something to tell Loki, at least.” Loki’s brother isn’t all gone, Steve knows it. Maybe it’s a naïve perspective, but he truly believes that everyone deserves another chance, and everyone can be saved. Well, maybe people like the Red Skull aside... </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m with you,” Natasha chips in, “that there’s a chance. But we have to be careful. He’s still dangerous. It might not be our decision anyway. Now that these agents are free, they can tell us Thor’s plan and where to find the tesseract and the rest of the agents.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Loki could very well return to </span>
  <span>Asgard</span>
  <span> with his brother, and they’ll never see them again. Steve hopes Loki will be alright, that he’ll find a way to help his brother and get him back. He wishes there were a way to help.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Clint’s room is just up ahead. Natasha pulls away and hurries for the door, limping past the guards and dismissing them with a wave. Both of them are still in their morning workout clothes, Steve bare-footed, but the guards aren’t going to question Captain America and Black Widow. They respectfully walk away, and Steve hangs by the door to watch and make sure everything is safe. Natasha hurries right in, but there’s no danger; Barton is on his back in a bed, his wrists safely cuffed at his sides. He’s writhing, gritting his teeth and thrashing his head from side-to-side as he fights the cuffs. At least he looks more distressed than dangerous, though Steve wishes the agent didn’t have to go through any of this.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cautiously, the Captain hangs back, not willing to leave, but not wanting to intrude. Natasha goes right to the bed, fearless and concerned, sitting in the chair and putting her hand across her friend’s sweaty forehead. “Easy Clint, it’s Natasha.” Steve can see the welt on Barton’s forehead from here.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Get it out...” Barton moans. “Out...”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s alright, you’re free. You’re safe,” Natasha calmly reassures, taking her friend by the shoulder. “It’s alright, Clint. I’m </span>
  <span>gonna</span>
  <span> get you through this. Just breathe.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Didn’t </span>
  <span>wanna</span>
  <span> do it...”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know. We all know. Nobody blames you.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>If Barton can hear her, he doesn’t appear reassured. At least he seems to be coming back down; his thudding heart rate is less rapid (Steve can hear it from the doorway), and his eyes are tracking his environment better. The Captain shuts the door behind him and walks into the little bathroom, finding a glass and filling it with cold water. He brings it out and sets it on the table, keeping his movements slow and giving the other two some space. “Want me to go?” he asks quietly.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, it’s alright,” Natasha smiles gratefully up at him. “Maybe just... hang back for a moment.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Of course he can do that. Steve slides back to the door and leans against the wall, making sure his posture is relaxed.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Barton arches his back and tugs involuntarily at his restraints, pushing his booted heels into the mattress. Then he heaves a labored sigh and relaxes, wincing through heavy breathing. They watch him closely, and finally he cracks open his eyes to peer up at Natasha. “...Tasha?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey,” she smiles softly, relief abundantly clear in her tone and posture. “You with me?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe...?” Clint winces and shuts his eyes. “Where’s’is?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Helicarrier,” Natasha explains, reaching for the cuffs with a glance to Steve. Steve doesn’t try to stop her, but she pauses anyway. “How you feelin’?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <span>Sure</span>
  <span> I’m</span>
  <em>
    <span> in</span>
  </em>
  <span> the </span>
  <span>helicarrier</span>
  <span>, not run over by it?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yup, he’s back,” Natasha offers Steve a brief, reassured smile. She goes ahead and loosens the cuffs, offering her friend the drink.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Clint takes the water and sips, pausing as he notices the extra person in the room. He stares at Steve and squints. “How badly did that magic spear mess me up?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not badly enough to ruin your keen eye,” Natasha smiles, turning to gesture to Steve. “This is Steve. We brought him on board to help.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Clint,” Barton leans back wearily on the pillows and holds out his hand. Steve hurries forward to take it and shake, staying a bit closer now that he’s been made part of the conversation. The agent takes another sip of water and scratches his forehead around the bump. “How’d you get me out?” he asks.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Natasha winces apologetically. “Cognitive recalibration,” she explains. “I hit you really hard in the head. Twice.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks,” Clint gives his head another rub, but he’s genuinely grateful. He quickly pales, tone and expression taking a nose dive. “So, uh... how many people did I kill?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Actually none,” Natasha is quick to reply. “As far as we can tell, anyway. You didn’t kill any agents when Thor first took you at the SHIELD base, you didn’t kill anyone in Stuttgart, and you haven’t killed anyone on the helicarrier.” Her tone suggests she’s contemplating that information with the same confusion as Steve.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s... good,” Barton frowns. “Not that I hoped to kill anyone, it’s just...”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Surprising,” Steve agrees. “I was thinking about that. You were under Thor’s control, right?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well... sort of,” Barton’s frown deepens, as does his wince, as if trying to wrap his head around what happened physically hurts. Maybe it does, with his concussion and the jumble his brain is likely in. They give him the time he needs to think. “It was more like... I was still in control and making decisions, I was just... on his side. He gave orders, I followed them. I thought of an idea, I said it. He sent me on a mission, I went and made my own calls while I was out there. Everyone else, too. It was less like mind-control and more like... a change of perspective.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>A change of perspective, yet no lives lost. Swapped to the other side, but still didn’t kill anyone. This validates Steve’s weak assumptions: this is no coincidence, no fluke – it’s cold, hard evidence. Unless of course there was some part of the agent’s brain that remained in-tact, that remembered which side he’s on deep down. They need more information, but Barton looks like he could use some rest first.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Clint speaks before they can, sitting up and swinging his legs over the side of the bed. “So uh, you guys catch him?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Both jump toward the agent to steady him, keeping him sitting. “Not so fast,” Natasha warns. “You need some rest. It’s alright, Thor has a brother who can hold him. He’s not getting away, and Loki figured out how to use the scepter to undo the spell.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s good,” Clint sighs, rubbing his face.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll get you something for that headache,” Natasha starts to pull away, but Clint shakes his head.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, no I’m okay. You guys need to know what he’s up to anyway.” He starts to stand again, but Steve easily holds him down.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It can wait a few more hours,” the Captain reassures. “Rest if you need. There are other agents we can ask.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Barton shakes his head again. “I might know more than they do. Besides, I’m not that tired. I’d kind of like to go for a walk, and to be honest... I could use a coffee.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>--</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>With reluctance, they allow Clint, coffee in-hand, to accompany them back to Thor’s cell. Natasha limps along beside her friend, the two of them clung protectively to each other as if in consolation that they’re both alright. Steve leads the way, knowing how awful they all must look. Then again, most people they pass sport a bruise or two of their own.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>When they reach the glass cell, Thor is sitting on the chair Steve brought to him earlier, wrists cuffed in his lap, his posture slumped and his eyes staring murderously ahead while his brother hangs beside him, the scepter in one hand and his other ready to snap out and deliver another dose of sleeping magic. Armed agents guard the open door, Fury looking in. Tony is at his side in the Iron Man suit, his helmet under his arm, Bruce at his side. Everyone looks up as the trio enters, even Thor who flicks the Captain a brief glance.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I guess this where we say goodbye,” Fury is saying, walking closer to the open cell door. “We got our agents back, and we don’t need to keep you around anymore. They know where the rest are, and the tesseract. Your little plan is over.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor stares right at him, but doesn’t budge a muscle. Even from this distance though, Steve can see fear in the alien’s eyes, a tremor so slight that only a super soldier would be able to spot it. Or maybe not just him; Natasha nudges his arm and he steps aside so she can see better.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If you have no further need for him, I will return us to Asgard as soon as possible,” Loki nods to Fury, and Thor flinches, straining his cuffs. Weapons click as the guards adjust them in their grip, and the whole room poises.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Feel free,” Fury gestures. “We got what we need. Sooner you take him home, the better.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>That’s not on Thor’s agenda. The second Loki’s hand reaches out, he’s up. Steve’s farther than the guards, but faster. Before they can raise their weapons, he shoves them aside and blocks the doorway with his frame while Tony raises his palms with the thrusters buzzing. Thor kicks the chair into Loki before his brother can touch him, lunging a step before locking eyes with Steve. The alien’s hardened gaze narrows and he freezes, staring at the soldier’s bruise-ringed neck. Steve holds his ground and braces himself for a fight, sliding back a leg for balance and holding his hands low by his sides so the alien won’t be able to anticipate his moves.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>But Thor just stops, poised to attack but frozen, their gazes locked together. The two biggest men in the room stare each other down for a moment or two before Loki shoves the chair out of his way and reaches for his brother again.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>No!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Thor growls, twisting to avoid the contact. “Don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>touch</span>
  </em>
  <span> me.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hurt, Loki draws away his hand and leans back. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he says.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But you’ll lock me in a cell? Make me a prisoner in my own kingdom?” Thor raises his cuffed hands an inch or two while the room watches in enraptured, wary silence. “Well, Asgard is no longer my home. You cast me out, tossed me aside.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve doesn’t feel good about being here to watch this, but he needs to help escort the two brothers to a safe place where they can use the method of travel Loki did to get here. That’ll have to happen on the ground, not up here on an airborne vessel.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I </span>
  <em>
    <span>looked</span>
  </em>
  <span> for you!” Loki pleads, but he’s wise not to approach, instead hanging back though it clearly pains him. “Space is vast, Thor! We searched, and we hoped, and we missed you.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>You left me to die!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Thor shouts back, and for a moment Steve wonders if he’ll have to step in to keep the alien from disemboweling his brother. “Your whole elaborate plan was a set-up so you could take the throne, and the final piece was to discard me. You got the throne – are you happy, </span>
  <em>
    <span>All-father?</span>
  </em>
  <span> It is too late.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You are not the brother I remember,” Loki hisses this time. “The brother I knew was compassionate. Hot-headed perhaps, but he had a soft heart and a love for his people. He was blossoming into a king when he returned from Father’s exile!”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Both brothers are tearing up, a few drops dribbling down Thor’s face as he stalks a step closer. “The brother you knew is gone,” he rasps. “You cast that man aside, and he has returned with new purpose, and a new family. Where you </span>
  <span>abandoned</span>
  <span> me, someone else took your place.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No form of love would ever twist you into this,” Loki spits in disgust, though Steve imagines it’s more at the thought of what could have turned his brother into this. That’s what Steve’s wondering, at least. “No form of love could corrupt you into a monster.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You would know of monsters,” Thor bites back, his eyes bright and his cheeks wet. Steve aches to step in before more tears can be shed, but he’s afraid he might actually get murdered if he does.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Loki visibly fights with replies in expression before finally settling. “Enough,” he says quietly. “Thor, enough. You’re coming back to Asgard-” That hand stretches out again.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor flails aimlessly for his brother, frantic to get to safety – he’s is capable of so much more, but it’s all gone out the window as he makes one last ditch effort to get as far away from Loki as possible. Loki stands back in mild shock, wounded by his brother’s fearful distrust.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay,” Steve says quietly, keeping his distance but holding up his hands. “Okay, let’s think about this for a second, alright?” Thor is quite possibly beyond reason, but they have to try.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He can’t stay here,” Fury grouses. “Get him under control.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor presses his shoulders against the glass, eying up Steve still blocking the exit, and Loki still in front of him but keeping his distance. His legs are trembling, and his eyelashes are dark with tears. Steve looks over his shoulder, but Natasha is already ushering the other SHIELD agents away.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There will only be this cell here for you,” Loki explains, trying to remain calm and gentle, but choking up. “Please. Come home.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There will only be a cell there, too,” Thor growls back. “A cell in a land I no longer call home.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then where is home?” Loki pleads. “Where, Thor?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Defiantly, Thor points upward. “Keep me wherever you like,” he spits. “</span>
  <span>Thanos</span>
  <span> will come for me.” Brave as those words are, they don’t hide the fact that the alien is still quaking, shedding overflowing emotions through his tear ducts.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor clearly doesn’t want Loki anywhere near him, and Steve can’t bear to watch this interaction for much longer. “Maybe let’s wait a little while,” he suggests quietly. “Come back to it.” Immediately, Thor sags minutely at the suggestion, though perhaps it’s his imagination.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And do what, Captain?” Fury demands. “Leave him here and give him another chance to escape?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve turns his stare straight back to Thor and holds his gaze. “If he tries to escape, Loki will stop him and take him right back home, no questions asked.” It’s not a threat, it’s a chance. A set of conditions. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Behave, and we might be able to find another option for you.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor glares back, but it’s his move now. Finally, he heaves a broken sigh and slumps to the ground, hanging his head in defeat. Doing his best to hide his triumph, Steve looks back at Fury.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Five days, Rogers,” the director sighs.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ten,” Steve bats back without hesitating.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Seven, and that’s that,” Fury orders, and Steve nods </span>
  <span>victoriously</span>
  <span>. They have seven days to find an alternative, or to convince Thor to go back home with his brother willingly.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>First things first though. If they want Thor to trust them, they need to show him a little trust first. That’s Steve’s take anyway. He walks into the cell and up to Loki, holding out his hand. “You got keys for those?” he nods at Thor’s cuffs.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>With a </span>
  <span>detached</span>
  <span> stare, Loki pauses, then processes the information and turns his hand. When he opens his fist, there’s a strangely-shaped key resting on it. No-one says a word, or hardly breathes as Steve walks over to Thor and gets to one knee. He moves steadily, predictably, and patiently waits for the cuffs to be presented to him. Warily, Thor stretches out one leg and rests his arm on the other, his cuffed wrists at a </span>
  <span>convenient</span>
  <span> height to be unlocked. Steve does so, pulling the restraints away and standing up. He returns both objects to Loki, and the brother trudges after him out of the cell.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor watches them out of the corner of his eye as he stretches out and rubs his wrists, but he makes no move to even get up as everyone quietly files out of the room. Fury isn’t happy about leaving such a dangerous individual uncuffed and unsupervised, but Steve ushers everyone out, and the director can’t exactly outmatch Captain America, and seems to at least trust him.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>So, they find themselves in a meeting room, sat around a table passing around ice packs, food, and drink. Steve decides not to argue and accepts a </span>
  <span>ziploc</span>
  <span> bag of frozen peas handed to him by Tony, pressing them against his neck. Natasha sits right up next to Clint and puts her bruised ankle on Steve’s chair. Tony leaves his armor standing sentry and sits quietly beside Bruce. Loki does his best to be casual, laying the scepter quietly on the table and taking a seat to Steve’s other side, his eyes distant.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fury stands over them, waiting until everyone is settled before looking right at Steve. “If you weren’t a national treasure, Rogers, I’d call you crazy.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s not the worst thing anyone’s ever called him, and he’s certainly been called crazy before </span>
  <em>
    <span>and</span>
  </em>
  <span> after becoming a national treasure. </span>
  <em>
    <span>If Bucky were here, he’d tell you.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Steve squares his shoulders. “He doesn’t want to kill anyone, sir.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Go look in the mirror at your neck, then come back and say that again.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He doesn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>want</span>
  </em>
  <span> to kill anyone,” Steve persists.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wanting to and being willing are two different things, Rogers,” Fury wisely replies, holding his ground.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He didn’t kill a single SHIELD agent, and he didn’t kill anyone in Stuttgart,” Natasha joins in. “And neither did any of the agents he had under mind control.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That doesn’t eliminate that he did put some of my agents in a hospital,” Fury looks between the two of them, a shade incredulous. “Just because he doesn’t go around murdering carelessly doesn’t make him trust-worthy! And any one of those hits could have been fatal, even by accident. You’re goddamn lucky he didn’t throw you at the wrong angle, Romanoff, or he’d have snapped your spine in half. He could have cracked your head open, and then what? Intent doesn’t absolve actions.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, it doesn’t,” Steve agrees firmly, “but surely it’s worth giving him a chance over.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A chance to do what?” Fury throws up his hands. “What the hell am I supposed to let him do, Captain? Go about his plan and hope it doesn’t kill us all? He was making a portal, and I don’t know about you but I don’t imagine whoever he wants to bring through is friendly.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not saying we should let him carry through his plan,” Steve shakes his head, setting down the peas. “I’m saying we need to think of other options than sending him back with Loki.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Loki is his family. He should go back to his home planet. This isn’t our business.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe not,” Steve looks over to Loki, “but if Thor doesn’t want to go back, then maybe we should at least try to find out why. We can’t just force him to go if he’s scared. He was terrified.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Loki is looking at his hands, clearly trying to focus on something so he can ground himself and keep it together. He swallows forcefully, and meets Steve’s eyes. “I don’t want my brother to cause your people any more harm,” he says quietly. “But I also do not want to cause harm to him either. That damage done to him must be extensive for him to denounce his home and his family. We have always had our differences, but he loves us. I know it.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“When he was in my head, there was always something nudging me to choose options that didn’t involve killing,” Clint speaks up. “Under his control, I wanted the same things he wanted. I wanted to build the portal so this army of aliens could come through. But I never, ever had the desire to kill anyone.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’ve all killed, Nick,” Natasha says. “Some of us on the job, others outside of it, and for some of us both. I’m not saying we wanted to, but we did it. Clint and I have killed enemies on missions just like the one he was given in Stuttgart.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s not amazing as evidence goes, but it’s something. It’s a sign there’s a man in there, one who is good and worth giving a chance. Everyone is staring at Fury now, even Loki. Steve even lets his expression form into something he’s used on Bucky many times in the past; when Bucky was angry at him for getting in another fight, he could </span>
  <span>mimic</span>
  <span> a wounded puppy so well that his friend would just sigh and shake his head, giving up the fight. Puppy-dog eyes don’t seem to be a likely weakness of Fury’s, but it’s worth a go. Steve lifts his eyebrows a little and lets his bottom lip slip naturally forward, just a little. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> out of practice.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maybe it works, maybe it was a combination of reasoning from everyone in the room, or maybe Fury comes to his conclusion on his own. Fury’s about giving second chances, even if he comes across as stern and unforgiving. Fury gave Natasha a second chance, after all. He’s giving them all a chance just by bringing them all into one room and allowing them to speak their opinion instead of putting his foot down. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The director sighs again, finally, and rubs his face. “Do what you think is best then, Captain. You have a week to achieve whatever it is you think you’re going to.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>--</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That went about as well as could be expected,” Tony </span>
  <span>stirs</span>
  <span> his coffee. “So, America’s b</span>
  <span>oy scout</span>
  <span>, you really think you can talk some sense into this guy?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve takes a sip of his smoothie, enjoying the cold blended fruit on the last of the swelling in his throat. He licks strawberry pulp off his lips and sighs, glancing at Loki’s still-dejected form. The alien is nursing some coffee in silence. “I really don’t know.” He wishes he did. “But I know everyone deserves that chance.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, you’ll let us know how we can help, right?” The inventor raises his eyebrows.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah. Yeah, of course,” Steve smiles, looking around the table at the nods of agreement.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Natasha smiles back. “Maybe we should meet up back here every evening and discuss our progress, or any ideas?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve nods. “Yeah. Let’s do that.” This cafeteria table is off to the side, by some windows, a perfect space for a team meet.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why don’t we meet in the lab instead?” Bruce offers. “We can put another table up there. It’ll be more private...”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good. So, dinner at seven, every night, the lab,” Tony confirms, and they all nod. It’s settled.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Even Loki seems a little uplifted by the news, his posture a bit more open and his coffee not pressed so tightly against his chest. His tears have long-dried, and there’s some hope in his eyes now, some determination. Steve’s about to say something to the alien, something uplifting, but Tony speaks before he can.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You know,” the inventor starts. “A little while back Fury was tossing around this idea of putting together a team. People like me, Bruce, then you, Steve, when we found you. You guys too.” He gestures to the spies. “The idea had something to do with putting all us weirdos together so we could work together and stop threats, or something. I think. I wasn’t entirely paying attention.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve huffs and gives a little smile. That would have been interesting, the five of them teaming up to fight together. He supposes they sort of have, though in smaller groups. He has to admit when he, Natasha, and Tony went to Stuttgart it worked pretty well.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You wrote me up as unfit for it,” Tony leans back and points at Natasha with a proud grin. “Then, long story short, Coulson shows up at my tower a few days ago, tells me I </span>
  <span>gotta</span>
  <span> come here to help deal with something. Fury wanted to assemble us so we could stop Thor from building his portal, or in failing, fight off the alien army. I guess.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The inventor is going somewhere with this. Everyone waits curiously for him to finish.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Seems we finished our mission,” Tony looks around at all of them. “But I figured hey, what if we stayed teamed up. Fought this one together. Just a neat idea I had. You were </span>
  <span>gonna</span>
  <span> be the leader, Steve, by the way. Fury called his project ‘the Avengers’ Initiative’, but we don’t have to keep that. It’s our team. If you want it to be that way, at least. Who knows, maybe this </span>
  <span>Thanos</span>
  <span> guy will show up after all and we’ll all have to kick his ass together.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>That actually sounds... </span>
  <span>kinda</span>
  <span> of nice. A team, just like the old days. Steve’s not so sure about leading, but they’re all looking at him, even Stark, who isn’t known for being the following type. If everyone else is on-board, then he’s happy to give this a go. Steve looks around the table one more time to make absolutely sure, even to Loki, then addresses them all. “I think that sounds like a good idea.” At the very least, it’ll be nice to make some friends. And if </span>
  <span>Thanos</span>
  <span> does come, and he is a threat, then at least they won’t be such a fresh team.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tony seems genuinely pleased, beaming at the success of his suggestions and standing up with his hand outstretched. “If this is our initiative, then I guess that makes us the Avengers. And this our first meeting.</span>
  <span>”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yes, Steve supposes it does. He stands and takes the hand, and everyone else follows suit, taking turns to shake around the table. Even Loki hesitantly offer his hand, and Tony closes the gap between them. The alien smiles a little, and they all sit down.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>They part ways once dinner is over, seeing as there isn’t anything new to add. There’s no use speculating if they haven’t tried anything. Maybe Thor will be just as resistant as before, or maybe he’ll be willing to </span>
  <span>negotiate</span>
  <span> now that he has options. One of those being to go home with his brother, and the other...? Steve’s not sure what they could </span>
  <span>possibly</span>
  <span> do. Keep him on Earth? Loki can’t stay here indefinitely as a </span>
  <span>nuclear</span>
  <span> deterrent. And how can they trust that Thor won’t try his plan again if they let him go? Could they send him to another planet? But which one, and again, how do they know he won’t just come back with </span>
  <span>Thanos</span>
  <span>? Clearly </span>
  <span>Thanos</span>
  <span> was able to get Thor here, and Thor is convinced his master can get him out as well. More importantly, is convinced he </span>
  <em>
    <span>will</span>
  </em>
  <span> get him out. What does that mean for Earth, the possible arrival of other aliens who may not be friendly? Aliens possibly stronger than Thor?</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Too many questions. And Steve’s got a week to answer them.</span>
  
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Working on some more drawings, but artist's block of all kinda got me good :,)</p><p>Time for some more good ol' stubborn Steeb. You can't win, Thor. You just can't.<br/>Here is where some of the very bad things are implied, but don't worry, there will be warnings when my descriptions become more direct and obvious.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Thor turns on his side and wraps his arms around his body. Even after a hundred years, he can still see </span>
  <span>Asgard’s</span>
  <span> golden towers stretching above lush forest. He can see the rainbow bridge reflecting light from the universe, and he can see reaching hands as he falls away from it. His arms were never long enough to reach as high as his father needed.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Odin’s demands no longer matter. He’s free.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Someone taps on the glass behind him, where the door is. Thor flinches and holds still, listening but refusing to respond. “Brought you some food,” a man says quietly. The star-marked one, who was </span>
  <span>referred</span>
  <span> to as ‘Captain’ and ‘Rogers’ by the man in the eye patch. The door slides open, and a plate is set on the floor with a dull thump. Some cutlery rattles as it’s set down, then the door shuts again. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor can’t deny that he’s hungry, nor can he deny that the Captain and the Widow put up another hard fight. He can’t bring himself to turn over though, not while he’s got company. At the very least, Captain Rogers doesn’t walk around the cage so they can be face-to-face. Thor wants the security of hiding his expression, especially from one with such an observant gaze.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>A boot taps on the ground amidst the rustle of cloth as the Captain shuffles his posture. “I know you’re not a killer,” he says in a gentle tone. “Even if you don’t.” His voice doesn’t sound as rough as it did a few hours ago – his bruised throat must be almost healed.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you know of anything?” Thor huffs. “What do you know of me?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Rogers chuckles. “Not much, </span>
  <span>admittedly</span>
  <span>,” he says. “But I know that you could have done a lot more damage than you did. Even if you didn’t make a conscious decision, you still didn’t kill anyone, and neither did the agents you mind-controlled with the scepter.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d have killed you,” Thor growls out of a need to prove that he’s quite capable of killing. He gets the job done. He’s killed before, plenty of times.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“No, you wouldn’t,” Rogers argues calmly. “You could have, but you hesitated.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You were oxygen-deprived,” Thor counters. “It was your imagination.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He can almost hear an eyebrow lifting. “No, it wasn’t. You chose not to kill me, because it goes against your nature.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you often make assumptions about strangers?” Thor holds his arms tighter around himself. He doesn’t like to be probed, doesn’t like people assuming they knows who he is, and what happened to him. Nothing’s ‘happened’, and even if it had he’s a better warrior for it.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Not an assumption,” Rogers states so confidently. “Just an observation. I’m not trying to categorize your beliefs, or your motifs, or make any claims about who you are. All I’m saying is that you aren’t a </span>
  <span>ruthless</span>
  <span> killer, and I have the evidence.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“This tells you nothing,” Thor persists, wishing he could see Rogers’ face but not wanting to offer up his own for inspection. “There are many who choose not to kill for a </span>
  <span>variety</span>
  <span> of reasons.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s your reason?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. He hadn’t expected his agents not to take lives, especially in Stuttgart.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“It goes against your nature, so you avoid it where you can,” Rogers fills in for him. “You’re right: I’ve met some bad people with a lower kill count than my allies. That alone doesn’t say much. But you were so sure you could kill me, and you didn’t.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I would have,” Thor snaps.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“If you had to,” Rogers agrees. “But you didn’t have to, so you didn’t. That’s all I’m saying.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You mean to intend I may be the man my brother wishes I still was,” Thor snorts, trying to hide his anger and hurt behind something </span>
  <span>nonchalant</span>
  <span>. Tears are bubbling back up inside him, but he fights against their clutch. “I was naïve then, and blind. He wishes I were that man </span>
  <span>again</span>
  <span> so he can manipulate me. I won’t be betrayed again.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“What happened?” Steve asks, undemanding and compassionate, consistently not dissuaded. He wants to learn, but Thor doesn’t trust him. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“It is as your SHIELD leader said,” Thor bites out, “none of your business.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“The fact that you agreed to my suggestion means you’re willing to consider other options to letting Loki take you home.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Gods, this man is determinate. “Perhaps I’m only waiting for a chance to escape, have you considered that?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Hope for the best, prepare for the worst,” Rogers says. “I’m willing to bet that if I walked in there right now you wouldn’t hurt me. If I were in the way of your escape, then sure. But you know that if you try to escape, Loki will just take you back, and no matter how much you believe </span>
  <span>Thanos</span>
  <span> will come for you, you can’t bear the thought of returning home for any length of time.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I could outrun my brother with the right break.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“But you won’t risk it.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe I will.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Doubt it.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor rolls over and stands, bristling. “Are you always this presumptive, Captain?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Rogers is standing loosely, arms folded casually over his chest, the marks on his neck not so prominent. He’s dressed in jeans and a casual shirt, his expression relaxed yet concerned. “I’m just trying to help.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want it. I don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>need</span>
  </em>
  <span> it.” </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Rogers shrugs. “You don’t want Loki to take you home, and we don’t want to let you out to open a portal. Right now you’ve got two options, a cell here or a cell there, and if you don’t like either of them then you’ve got to give us something to work with. If you won’t do that, then I’ll have to find some information on my own and start guessing.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor snorts. “You’d best call your red-headed friend instead, then. She’s better at this than you are.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not here to interrogate you. I just want to talk.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“That makes one of us.” Thor folds his arms too, but his gesture is a defiant one, challenging Rogers to persist and waste his time.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Rogers just steps closer to the glass. “Why do you want this?” he asks. “Why do </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> want it? To please Thanos? And what will he give you if you get this done for him?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <span>Thanos</span>
  <span> has plans for the universe that you could not comprehend,” Thor holds his ground. “</span>
  <span>So</span>
  <span> I will spare you the details. When he comes for me, he will take back the tesseract and bring his army to take over your world for his own plans. He will better your planet.” </span>
  <span>Thanos</span>
  <span> has a great vision, and cannot be stopped.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“An army from outer-space,” Steve confirms. “To what – enslave humanity? Wipe it out? Sounds like killing to me. Whatever happens, people are going to get hurt, and we’ve already established that’s not what you want.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Sometimes sacrifices have to be made.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“This isn’t your mission. You don’t believe in it. Which means someone’s forced you into a corner. Who forced you into a corner? </span>
  <span>Thanos</span>
  <span>?” Steve is watching him so carefully, and Thor can’t help but show some of his distress. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor unfolds his arms and stalks up to the glass. There’s barely a foot separating their eyes. “I would watch very carefully what you say next, Captain. Be thankful this glass separates us.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“We want to help you,” Rogers carries on. “We’ll give you whatever chances we can, but there’s only so much we can do. You don’t want to go back with Loki? Talk to us. If you really are stuck, we’ll do everything we can to help.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Rogers believes it. His thoughts and feelings are plain as day. The sincerity has Thor believing it too, that these people would truly try to help him. Their efforts are misplaced, though. He doesn’t need help. </span>
  <span>Thanos</span>
  <span> may come to retrieve him before the week is through. “Save your breath,” he growls.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Recognizing futility, Rogers sighs. “You think on that,” he says. “We’ll talk again tomorrow.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor watches the Captain walk away before turning back to the meal left for him: some water and a plate of sandwiches. There’s so much on his mind that his thoughts fades to a blur in the background. He sits by his meal and picks up a triangle, curiously inspecting the fillings between thee bread. He has to eat, he knows that. It’s possible this is a trap, but his instincts tell him it isn’t. Rogers is going to keep placating him with gifts, and won’t risk ruining his chances to get what he wants so soon.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor eats, and empties the plate. Feeling better for the meal, he decides to take advantage of his gifts and picks up his blanket. Confident he’ll be left alone for a little while, Thor lays down and wraps the blanket around himself, folding his arms under his head. Rogers has trusted him not to try anything, so he’ll trust Rogers to give him some space for a few hours. Being in this glass cylinder still feels vulnerable, but he’ll manage. A bit of rest will do him good.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>--</span>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Thor’s bruised neck heals quickly. In a matter of hours, the damage Midnight did to it is gone. </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> returns as promised and brings him to dinner. Thor looks out the windows and thinks of home. He knows what the sky around </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Asgard</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> looks like. There are some things that change, but others that don’t. He’s seen distant stars die and form over the fourteen-hundred years he’s been alive. He’s seen clouds of colorful gas drift and morph like Earth clouds, but much slower. He’s seen planets meander through the realm, no orbit quite strong enough keep them. A couple of times he’s even seen flocks of alien ships pass by in the distance.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Here isn’t much different, but it reminds him of staring up at the Earth sky for the first time after being exiled there. It was odd living in a world where so little was visible. Sometimes grey clouds would fill in the entire sky and create this haze. Thor knows thunderstorms, knows thick black clouds that can steal away all light save for the lightning living inside them, but this was different. Earth felt </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>shielded</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> compared to Asgard. Lonely, until he made some friends.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Thinking of </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Asgard</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>?” </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> asks.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Thor nods and smiles a little, leaning his face on his hand and resuming his meal.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You’re welcome to stay here as long as you like,” </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> offers out of the blue. “Recover, think things over.”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“What things?” Thor curiously tips his head.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Your feud with your brother, the </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>detachment</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> you feel from your father, the burden of rule. There’s no rush.” </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> is so generous. “I can certainly find you a role here, if that would suit you. You can say the word at any time, and I will take you home. But you may take refuge here. As I said, we collect many lost and </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>abandoned</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> things, give them new homes.”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Thor has to admit, this is a refreshing change. He is no longer burdened by his titles, or the expectations his father saddled him with. Let father handle Loki, at least for a little while. Part of him is even tempted to stay here for a few years simply to see how much his family has missed him when he returns. What would Odin say? Would he regret pushing his son so hard? Would he be kinder and more forgiving? It’s a tempting offer, a chance to experience a different kind of life, to find himself and other perspectives while he’s at it. Earth offered him that, but it was fleeting. Thor enjoyed his time on the farm. Humans are patient, kind, and generous. Thor would have happily lived with them a little longer.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Think on it,” </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> advises. “For now, enjoy your time here. Your room is yours for as long as you want it.”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Thank you,” Thor smiles, touched. “I appreciate it greatly. I’ll consider it.”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Pleased by the news, </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> offers that tour Thor never properly received. Eager to explore, Thor agrees.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>There are a great many decks on this massive vessel. Thor can only imagine how large it must be, and he’s certain his mind isn’t painting a just picture. They descend all the way to the bottom, and work their way up, starting with the deck Thor first woke up on, in the North quadrant.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“This is where we keep prisoners,” </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> explains. “Sometimes those we bring aboard are dangerous, or have unknown intentions, as did you. I had to be sure you were rational.”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Thor chuckles understandably, and they move along quickly up to the next floor, though he notices they haven’t gone to the very bottom.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“This is the engineering deck,” </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> invites him out of the elevator and into a wide space filled with workers of all species hard at their trades. Some tinker on the engines installed near the back of the room, while others examine smaller components detached from other pieces around the ship – circuit boards, mechanisms of all sizes, and more, keeping the whole ship in running order.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Large as it is, the ship needs a little of everything. There are of course the previously-visited training rooms, along with cooking decks, eating decks, storage decks, and living decks. There’s too much to explore in on day, but it’s a good start. These are all the places he’s </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>welcome</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> to go on his own.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>A walk will help him decide what to do with his future. Thanos leaves him be with promises to check in tomorrow, and Thor heads back the way they came. He’s a fast learner, and can remember how to get to the areas introduced to him.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Staying here with </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> seems like a good idea. Just for a little while. A few years, maybe. Five? That’s not a long time for an Asgardian. The bi-frost will be fixed by then though, he’s certain of it. He hopes Loki will be alright, that the kingdom won’t be too hard on him. Blame can’t rest on his brother’s shoulders alone. Thor wonders if he’s shirking his own responsibility in this by staying here. He really wants to. Isn’t it about time he got a chance to breathe from his duties? No, perhaps not. Kings never rest, never get days off. Odin would be disappointed.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Odin isn’t here. What he chooses will not be for Odin. But for Loki...? Will his poor brother be persecuted without him there to stand up for him? Possibly, but Loki can stand up for himself. He’s smart, resourceful, and mother will protect him. He is not without allies.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Thor makes his decision. He goes to bed feeling unchained. The opportunity of a lifetime has fallen at his feet, and he would be a fool not to at least taste it. As Thanos said: if he changes his mind, he can always go home. Once on </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Asgard</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>, there’s no going back. Thor shuts his eyes and sleeps, eager to report to </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> tomorrow.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>--</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> is delighted. He gives a soft smile at Thor’s acceptance of his offer and pats the prince’s shoulder warmly. “You can stay here as long as you like. Say the word, and I will bring you home.”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I think a break is what I need,” Thor smiles sadly. “But I won’t be an idle guest.” He has no intention of taking advantage of Thanos’ hospitality.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I would be pleased if you accompanied us on our missions,” </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> says. “A little more training, and you would fit in with my other warriors.”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Thor has always found his place with other fighters. He belongs on a battlefield, not a throne. He happily agrees.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“We seek out planets in need and help them balance their resources,” </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> explains. “We want to bring stability to the universe.”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“All of it?” That sounds like a wild ambition, regardless of how noble.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> has a plan, though. “Have you ever </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>heard</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> of the infinity stones, little one?”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Perhaps in legend,” Thor agrees. “I confess I didn’t pay much attention in school.” Maybe someone tried to teach him about these stones at some point, but he doesn’t remember.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> chuckles and gives Thor’s hair a little ruffle. “There are stones as old as time which are powerful enough to bring about this. If we collect all of them, we can use their power to eliminate famine all across the universe. One snap, and all those problems will go away. There will be enough for everyone.” He mimics the snap, old sadness lingering in his eyes.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“It sounds like a noble quest,” the prince says. A quest he can get behind. “I would be happy to help, if I can. You’ve done more than enough for me.”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“That would please me,” </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> agrees. “Perhaps I’m the lucky one.”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Thor laughs at the complement, touched. Trying to make a difference in the universe seems like a worthy cause to spend his time on. He’ll need his hammer though. He wants to offer </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> his full power. Mjolnir isn’t too far away, he hopes. If he spends his free time calling for it, it might arrive within the month.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>That same day, </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> introduces his other main warriors, his children. Proxima Midnight is with them, of course. Then there’s Ebony Maw, </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Corvus</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> Glaive, and Cull Obsidian. They’re all dressed in a similar color scheme, all regarding him with curiosity and cold stares. Thor has fought tougher, meaner-looking warriors than these. They’re nothing compared to frost giants. He stands fearless at </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>’ side, and perhaps there’s some respect seeping into their expressions already.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“This is Thor,” </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> announces, and the name sounds so short compared to the others. The shortest name, the newest face. It does feel concise, though. “You are to treat him as your equal, and respect him as you respect each other, as I respect you. He will fight with you, train with you, and you will give him help and guidance if he needs it.”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>They all nod, and already Thor can pick out some differences beyond appearance. Ebony Maw stands tall an observant, graceful </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>in stance</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>, with sharp eyes. He takes in everything around him, sizes up Thor with not so much as a sweeping glance. His expression tells nothing. Cull Obsidian is the largest of the four, the brute, the muscle. He’s covered in thick, leathery skin and offers Thor a snort when introduced. Closer again to Thor’s own size is </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Corvus</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> Glaive, dressed in dark robes with sharp adornments, wearing an unfriendly sneer on his grey elf-like features. And of course there’s Proxima Midnight, staring at him with her usual predatory glare. None of them seem elated to see him, but he’ll win them over. Worst case, he’ll stay out of their way.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> has trained all of his children in combat, and they’re highly skilled. Thor already knew he has a lot to learn from his duel with Midnight, but he can see it even more now that the other three are here; their styles are so variant, testament to </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>’ own skill. Now </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> wants to know what sort of warrior Thor is, where his strengths </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>lie</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> so they can be cultivated.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Each child steps forward to test Thor, to see how his skills </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>compare</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> to theirs. They cast glances back at </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>, and he reciprocates with silent orders. Thor does his very best, showing off fifteen-hundred years of training. He’s pleased to find the others appear surprised by his strength and durability. He can take Cull </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Obisidian’s</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> punches like they’re nothing. There’s plenty to improve on, though, which is gratifying in a way. Thor is good at fighting, and he loves to learn how to do it better. He knows he’ll need to prove himself to </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>’ children, and </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> himself, but this is better than his father’s </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>judgmental</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> eye. </span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>This is exhilarating. One thing about learning from the same teachers is the restrictions to their knowledge. Asgardians are known for their fighting prowess, but </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> holds knowledge and experience they don’t. Stepping outside his bubble is proving valuable. Thor vows to learn as much as he can. If he returns, perhaps his father will be proud of him. If he never goes back... so be it.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Thor resolves not to get ahead of himself. In a week or two, he may become homesick and want to return. For </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>now</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> though?</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>--</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>When Thor awakes, he’s in a dream.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>It appears to be a dream at first, but he quickly realizes it’s a mirage of some kind, a spell. His form is being projected somewhere else, and that somewhere appears to be a rock floating in space. It’s not the first time </span>
  <span>Thanos</span>
  <span> has used these methods to communicate with his children when they’re far away.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thanos</span>
  <span> isn’t here, but Midnight is. She prowls away from the </span>
  <span>Chitauri</span>
  <span> leader the moment he appears. Thor stands straight and alert, but his legs are shaking. Is she coming to deliver punishment for his failures? </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“The humans continue to hold you,” Midnight purrs. “Are their cages too strong for you?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m biding my time,” Thor replies. “Let them waste their energy. If I gain their trust, they will send Loki away and I can escape then. Save </span>
  <span>Thanos</span>
  <span> a trip to </span>
  <span>Asgard</span>
  <span>.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Your brother is no match for you, yet you have already allowed him to subdue you on many occasions.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“My brother has magic,” Thor explains. “One touch-”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Then don’t let him touch you. Kill him,” Midnight orders. “Kill him and be done with this. Move on with the plan. You can overpower them and retrieve the scepter. Bring down their ship and return to your work. The portal is almost complete.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“This is my mission,” Thor calmly replies, fighting to hold his cool, “and </span>
  <span>Thanos</span>
  <span>’ plan. Not yours.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Midnight’s hand snaps out, and she grabs him by the throat, caressing his cheek with her index finger. She brings her face in close. “Mind your tongue, little one.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He can’t find the words to defend himself, nor the strength to push her away. He can simply hope she’ll move away and leave him alone. Thor needs to be focused, and if she goes about her normal methods of punishment, he’ll be a shivering wreck. Captain Rogers and his companions will have the advantage.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Midnight draws back, finally. “The </span>
  <span>chitauri</span>
  <span> grow restless,” she growls out a final warning.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor jolts awake, and he’s lying on the floor right where he fell asleep, the blanket still wrapped around him. It’s damp with sweat when he throws it </span>
  <span>off.</span>
  <span> Catching his breath, Thor sits. He’s </span>
  <span>dizzy</span>
  <span> with a panicked heartbeat, but a chuckle still manages to escape – would Captain Rogers be able to protect him from Proxima Midnight as offered? Would any of these earthlings be able to keep him from her wrath, no matter how strong they are? Even if they managed, she would find a way, and his punishment would be more severe. The only thing stopping Midnight from destroying him would be Thanos.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>His cell and the room containing it are both still empty. Thor draws in his legs and wraps the blanket around his shoulders as if it will guard his back and shield him from watching eyes. He needs to find a way out, adjust the plan Thanos gave him. He needs to bide his time so he can slip free while the humans aren’t looking. He imagines the portal will be almost complete by now. They’re so close. Even the loss of those agents who tried to rescue him won’t slow down the plan at this stage. Any information SHIELD can get from them still needs to be acted on. They still need to fly out and search for the hidey-hole where the machine is being built. Thanos will alert them, can guide them to another location. Hope is not lost.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>But he cannot go back to </span>
  <span>Asgard</span>
  <span>, under any circumstances. What </span>
  <span>awaits</span>
  <span> him there is torture.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you okay?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor looks up, drawing his face off his knees. Cool air brushes against his damp cheeks, which he wipes furiously at the sight of Captain Rogers by the glass. The Captain is peering in with softly-furrowed eyebrows, his lips parted and his expression sorrowful. Thor growls and turns his back, clutching the blanket protectively around himself. “Fine.” He rubs his eyes more furiously. He’s been trained better than this, to be in control of his emotions, or at least his expression of them.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>It’s too bad they never predicted Loki’s appearance, nor the constant presence of a kind blonde with a welcoming smile. </span>
  <span>Thanos</span>
  <span> could have prepared him for those.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“If you work with us, we can get you out of this cell,” Rogers offers.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re the ones who put me in here,” Thor notes </span>
  <span>venomously</span>
  <span>.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Give us a reason to let you out, and we will.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“A bold promise,” Thor huffs, resting his chin on his knees. “Does your superior agree?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“He might not be happy about it,” Rogers’ tone shifts enough that Thor imagines a small smile. “He’s wary, but then again, you did strangle me.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry,” Thor spits, but he finds he means it, which is just as surprising as the fact that he actually said it.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a pause from Rogers. “It’s okay,” the other man sighs, taking it as if the apology were spoken in a better tone. “I heal. I got in your way, and you were just trying to complete your mission. I’ve hurt people to accomplish mine in the past.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re a soldier,” Thor speculates. That would make sense, the title, the physique.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Another pause. “</span>
  <span>Kinda</span>
  <span>.” The tone is saddened, regretful. Thor tries to smirk in his victory, but he can’t make his lips do it.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“A warrior, then.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” the answer comes more readily this time, with confidence.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“That would explain your persistence,” Thor finds his angry spark again, but it’s damped. “What have you come for today? I have no information for you, and I don’t intend to submit.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” Rogers answers. “Didn’t come here for that. Just came here to find out what I can do. I brought you some more blankets, by the way.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a pause, which Thor finally realizes is an opening for his affirmation of some kind. He huffs and hugs his legs, tensing all throughout Rogers’ entrance. Rogers keeps his distance, setting the blankets on the chair and stepping out again. The doors slides shut, and Thor relaxes.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I was sleeping on some other options...” Rogers says. “To this, I mean. There’s a SHIELD headquarters in DC. We could bring you there. Tony just built his new tower in New York, and he said he could design a place for you to stay. I mean, I think you could break out of this if you really tried, so maybe putting you in a cell is kind of pointless.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The honesty intrigues him. Thor nods quietly in agreement, knowing for himself that wherever he ends up, regardless of how well the humans manage to contain him, </span>
  <span>Thanos</span>
  <span> can get him free.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“If you promise not to hurt anyone, we could probably get you somewhere a bit nicer.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I can make no promises,” Thor almost laughs. The second Loki is out of here, he’s going right back to his mission. He’ll break out of wherever they put him.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“We got the tesseract back, by the way. And the other agents. They’re on their way back by jet right now.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor does his best to hide his shock and alarm behind curiosity. “How?” It’s not very effective.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ve got a couple of geniuses who tracked down the cube’s unique energy signature,” Rogers says. “We found the cube, and the other agents right with it.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor’s composure falls apart, while his confidence plummets. He suddenly feels very lost and alone, the blanket doing nothing to hide how badly he’s shaking. Midnight won’t spare him for this. She’s watching, and she’ll have her way with him when this is over. So will the others. Glaive is good with that sort of thing, torture. Ebony Maw, too. He knows how to inflict physical pain. But Thor deserves it, for making a mistake, for not being clever or fast enough. He needs to train more. When this is all over, he’ll have no choice but to accept his punishment, and only then can Thanos come to comfort him.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>But... what if during his extended stay he not only repairs this damaged plan, but brings back something extra? What if he brought Midnight a new toy? Suppose he gave her Captain Rogers as a gift, something to keep her busy until she forgets this whole incident? The Captain is strong and stubborn, so perhaps he would occupy her for a while.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor feels immediately sick at the thought of it, though it does help quell his fear given this may be an option. Rogers may prove his kindness so far has only been a ploy, and then he wouldn’t feel ill offering him up. At least it’s something, an idea. Thor can still come out on top, can still bring back more than what was asked of him.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Thor...?” Rogers calls quietly, concern still weighty in his tone. “Thor... We really don’t want to hurt you. Just like you don’t want to hurt us.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“So you’ll hurt me if you must, if I get in your way,” Thor blurts out without thinking, guided by his fear and spitting back the same statements made about him by the Captain himself.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“If you attack us, then we’ll do what we have to </span>
  <span>to</span>
  <span> protect ourselves,” Rogers replies evenly. “But we can protect you, and we will. Whoever’s making you do this, we’ll fight them.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor doesn’t have a doubt that these morons would pick battles far beyond their capabilities. The Widow is a skilled, though an unenhanced human, and she fought head-on against Thor. Rogers, despite his magic spell, barely held his own. What chance do they and their companions have against Proxima Midnight and the other children when they come to hurt him? What business do they have disrupting this system? Thor knows that mistakes are never learned from without punishment, and he knows that what he receives is due.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve got a few more days to think about it before Loki takes you back,” Rogers reiterates. “My friends and I are going to have a meeting tonight, to see if we can think of some other options-”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine,” Thor grinds out.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Huh?” Rogers is satisfyingly taken aback.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I said fine. Send me where you will.” There’s no other choice. He simply can’t return to </span>
  <span>Asgard</span>
  <span>. “Take me to your SHIELD residences, or your towers, or another prison. Whatever suits you. I will not harm your people, granted they keep out of my way.” Thor spins slowly and lifts his chin off his knees to seal his promise with </span>
  <span>steady</span>
  <span> eye-contact.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Rogers looks him back, blinking. “I’ll... I’ll tell Fury. We’ll get it sorted.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Easy as that. No Loki, no </span>
  <span>Asgard</span>
  <span>. Rogers will be easily dealt with. He’s too trusting. Or maybe it’s all an act. Either way, Thor will deal with him as necessary. He’ll shove Rogers under Midnight’s treads to save himself if he must. Despite the nausea rolling in his stomach, he makes himself that promise.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Rogers is smiling at him, opening the door so he can step inside and offer his hand. He lingers politely by the doorway. “My name’s Steve, by the way.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor snorts and gets up, shedding his blankets and uncurling. He swells into his clothes and lets his posture spread out as he walks over. Steve hasn’t won, hasn’t gotten what he wants. Thor is still in control here, could still crush this human if he wanted to. Steve needs to know that. Firmly, Thor shakes the hand, teasing his grip just a little to see if the Captain can take it. Oh, Steve can take it: he takes the squeeze but doesn’t apply any more pressure other than what’s friendly, showing no need to engage in a contest of intimidation.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Brought you some breakfast,” Steve is still smiling, drawing away his hand to pick up a plate covered in toast, eggs, sausages, and fruit. He passes it into Thor’s hands, who stands there in dumb silence as </span>
  <span>the</span>
  <span> door slides shut to separate them again. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor really hopes he doesn’t have to kill Steve.</span>
  
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>As always, thank you for your comments! I love reading your thoughts. More answers will come, I promise. But first, a bit of Steve being a sweet good boi.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>This is frankly not the outcome Steve expected when Fury called him in a few days ago: Thor is moving in.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor is moving in, because according to Fury, this is Steve’s responsibility. Not that Steve would argue with that, but he can’t say he’s one-hundred-percent confident in this plan. It’s not like there’s anywhere better for Thor to go, though. It’s doubtful any cell would hold him, and it’s better he </span>
  <span>have</span>
  <span> fewer people in his way to hurt if he tries anything. If he hurts </span>
  <span>Steve</span>
  <span>, </span>
  <span>Steve</span>
  <span> will heal. Steve doesn’t think that will happen, though, but according to Tony he’s being too optimistic.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I still think you should come live at the tower,” Tony insists. “Least I can do is have JARVIS keep an eye on him.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>To be honest, Steve’s tempted by that offer. He really likes his new friends, but he’s not ready to move in with them. He needs his own space, where he knows they won’t be able to walk in on him while he’s having a nightmare.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re still going to have those meetings,” Natasha adds. “Your apartment is in New York, right?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, it’s not that far from the tower,” Steve agrees, grateful he’s not going to be totally cut off.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re thinking once a week on a Friday, seven pm,” Tony says.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m down,” the Captain smiles. That will be nice.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Good,” Tony pats his shoulder. “I expect to see you there, Cap. There’ll be food, and you can teach us all kinds of ancient card games.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“And we still have our training sessions,” Natasha adds. “Clint said he’ll join us, if you like.” The archer gives a thumbs-up.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve happily agrees. Just like that, he’s got the beginnings of a schedule. That was always tough, trying to fill his days with someone meaningful, something to stop those days from blurring together. This is a bit unconventional, but it’ll be routine.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>His friends head off to the jet, and Loki approaches, still dressed in his black suit to fit in. He’s got the scepter in a case and a sadness in his eyes he’s trying to overcome with hope. The brother tries for a smile, and though it’s weak and wounded, it’s sincere. “Thank you,” he says. “</span>
  <span>Asgard</span>
  <span> will assist where we can, but for now... While Thor won’t let me near there’s not </span>
  <span>much</span>
  <span> I can do but watch and hope. And give you my thanks, of course. Take care of him. I know there’s a chance he can become more as he was.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll do my best,” Steve smiles sadly back. “We all will.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“My mistake should not be your responsibility to undo, but here we are,” Loki sighs. “Thank you again.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve smiles and holds out his hand. Loki accepts and shakes it with a firm nod of his head.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>There are a few things left to arrange before they can get going. Fury approaches once everyone else has left, more pensive and serious than usual. “Steve, are you still sure about this? We can have Loki take him away instead.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sure,” Steve agrees whole-heartedly. “You saw how scared he was to go back. We can’t do that to him. Maybe if he stays here for a </span>
  <span>while</span>
  <span> we have a chance of finding out what happened. We can help him.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s a lot to expect,” Fury says with a twitch of his eyebrow. “You’re going up against a hundred years of damage.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s worth a shot.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Everyone’s worth the shot.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Fury sighs. “If anyone’s got a chance it’s you and the others.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“The Avengers,” Steve agrees. “Tony explained. We decided it would be a good idea to try it out. Then maybe if shit goes down we’ll be ready.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s pray to whatever gods there are that won’t be necessary,” the SHIELD director says. “But there are other threats here on good old Mother Earth. I was wondering if you might be interested in a job, Captain. We could use a man like you.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve smiles a little at that and looks down at his feet. Yeah, lots of people could use a man like him. He can’t imagine how valuable a super-soldier would be to SHIELD. He imagines it, running OPs again, fighting with a team...</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Think about,” Fury says with an edge of softness. “Get used to your new roommate, and we’ll talk again later. I was going to put you with Agent Romanoff and Barton, but I’m going to extend that offer to Stark and Doctor Banner too. I think the five of you would work well together.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve has to admit, he likes the idea of getting out in the field again, doing what he was made to do. It’s not right for the peak of human physique to be moping around his house by himself. It felt good to practice with Natasha, and it’ll feel good to make a difference again. Fury’s right: Earth is full of threats of its own, and Steve would be happy to jump back in and help where he can. Not to mention, Peggy is one of the founders of SHIELD. He wants to honor her legacy, and be close to her.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He really needs to move on. Maybe fighting under her flag will help with that, help him honor her while making his own way. She’s gone, and he’s never going to get her back.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>--</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The jet is quite cramped. Tony’s offered to fly alongside in Iron Man, and Fury agrees that having an airborne escort will be beneficial in case something goes wrong.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>So far, so good. Thor is quiet, sitting rigid in his seat, staring blankly ahead. He’s clearly in serious discomfort, even though Loki’s kept as much distance as physically possible since cuffing his wrists again. Fury and Barton are flying, while the others keep watch. Bruce is keeping his distance, visibly nervous and sticking close to Loki. If Thor does decide to cause trouble, they’ll be relying on the brother to subdue him in quick time.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor looks rather odd, his uniform and weapons confiscated, dressed instead in some of Steve’s spare clothes from his room – a t-shirt, some jeans, and a pair of sneakers. His hair is still pulled back in that neat ponytail, and his eyes are full of simmering anger, but a simple wardrobe change has already made a world of difference. Steve plans to offer up the bathroom the second they walk in, though he wonders if Thor would be willing to do something so vulnerable in a stranger’s house. Steve knows Thor might never trust him, regardless of how well they get to know each other over the duration of Thor’s stay. That could be months, or Thor might deck Steve in the head and make a run for it the second they’re alone and Loki is back on Asgard. No-one knows what lies ahead.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>But Steve’s up for it. For the first time since waking up he feels like he has purpose. Captain America is a fighter and a giver, and he’s found someone to poor his time into. He just has to be prepared that it may be a </span>
  <em>
    <span>lot</span>
  </em>
  <span> of time he has to give before there’s any sign of results.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>They’ve landed on the same pad Steve took off from just a few days ago. </span>
  <span>This is a result, isn’t it? Thor willingly following him off the jet to the parade of black vans waiting for them? </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“See you in a few days,” Natasha smiles, handing him a piece of paper. “Call if you need anything before then, alright? I already put all our numbers in your phone.” Steve smiles gratefully.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“See </span>
  <span>ya</span>
  <span> Cap, I’m </span>
  <span>gonna</span>
  <span> teach you Mario Kart if it’s the last thing I do,” Clint gives him a hand-shake and a wave as he gets in the car with Natasha, and a driver takes them off. Bruce and Tony give their own goodbyes before getting into one of Tony’s cars. With a significantly louder engine rumble, they’re gone too.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Everyone’s got a head-start, so Loki steps forward with the keys and hands them to Steve, who turns. Thor holds up his hands, perfectly rigid so Steve can undo his cuffs without the need for a steadying touch. With a click, the cuffs are off, and Loki pockets them. He gives one last forlorn look at his brother as he takes a few steps back, his black suit shimmering back into his dark green and gold robes. “Goodbye,” he offers with slightly-furrowed eyebrows, but Thor doesn’t respond, staring off with indifference threatened by a scowl. Steve returns the sentiment instead, nodding and hoping that ‘goodbye’ isn’t final. He can’t imagine how much this must hurt Loki.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Heimdall!” Loki calls, and rainbow light strikes down in an instant to whisk him away. Steve shields his eyes until the light fades, leaving behind a patch of smoking runes burned into the pavement. They all stand in silence as the air clears.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, come on,” Fury gestures one of the vehicles. “It’s dinner time. I called and had someone deliver some extra supplies. A bed, some more clothes. Oh, and your fridge should be full.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” Steve frowns as he opens the back door and slides in. Thor follows on the other side, shutting the door behind him and keeping pressed to it. He clips his seat belt like Steve does, then stares out the window with stormy eyes.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The drive is very quiet. Fury doesn’t bother trying to make small talk, and Steve doesn’t try either. He’s ready, just in case Thor suddenly tries to escape, but it’s hard not to slip into complacency with the alien staring out the window like a brooding teenager. At the very least, Thor is obedient. He moves when Steve does, following suit when Fury parks on the curb and the Captain gets out. The alien stands on the sidewalk, waiting direction like a soldier, eyes examining his surroundings like a wary prisoner. Steve supposes Thor is closer to ‘prisoner’ than ‘houseguest’. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Fury opens the trunk of the SUV to pull out a duffel and something suspiciously circular. “These are yours,” he offers. “A few things, plus the shield. It belongs to you.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve takes them, shouldering the duffel and taking the other bag in both hands. He can feel the weight and strength of his shield through the fabric, and it’s nice to hold it. “Thanks,” he smiles at Fury. He feels more comforted by this than any of his other possessions, new and old, waiting for him in that apartment.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Should have given it to you right away,” Fury says. “I’ll talk to you later about that offer. But if you need me, you’ve got my number. Need anything else before I go?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve looks up at the building, down to Thor standing rigid a few feet away, then back to Fury. “I think I’ll be alright,” he reassures. “</span>
  <span>Nothin</span>
  <span>’ I can’t handle.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright then, Captain. Good luck.” Fury casts his own wary glance at Thor before climbing back in his car and driving away.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve almost expects Thor to lunge at him, but the other man doesn’t, waiting patiently for instruction though clearly displeased. “Come on,” Steve angles his head and starts to lead the way, trusting his companion is following. Quiet footsteps do take after him, but thanks to the serum he can hear them. For a large man, Thor can sure creep along like a cat. This will at the very least be interesting. Living with someone else is going to take a bit of adjustment, and Steve honestly doesn’t know what to expect. Maybe Thor will hide himself away in a corner and Steve won’t ever see him.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>His apartment is just as he left when he unlocks the doors and steps inside, apart from the extra bag of clothes in the landing, and the boxed mattress beside it. Space won’t be a problem, since his place is easily big enough to accommodate two people.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Home sweet home,” Steve sighs, shutting the door behind Thor and sliding out of his shoes. Thor follows suit, still mute and apprehensive. Steve gives him a small smile. “Here, I’ll show you around, show you how to use everything. Then you can go wherever you like. I’ll find a room for you, and that’ll be your space. I won’t bother you there.” </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor still doesn’t speak, but at least he follows Steve around the apartment, watching and listening intently.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You can watch TV if you want,” Steve points to it as they pass. “This is the kitchen. You can eat whatever you want, whenever you want.” He opens the cupboards to show the food in there, too. Maybe Thor is a tinned soup kind of guy. What do people eat on other planets? Do they have toasters? Steve points to his just in case. “That’s the toaster,” he explains. “Know how to use it?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor just blinks at him, as if afraid to admit that he can’t. Or maybe he’s just overwhelmed. This is probably a lot at once.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Here,” Steve pulls out a fresh loaf of bread left for him by whomever shopped for him, sliding out two slices and dropping them into the toaster. He turns the dial and pushes the handle. While the bread cooks, he goes to the oven. “What about this?” Steve has no doubt that alien technology is far more advanced than here on Earth, but it still might be hard to learn.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>This time Thor tips his head the smallest fraction, his eyes narrowing slightly.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Steve smiles. “That’s okay. I’ll show you, okay? You like eggs?” Maybe it’s a waste of time to be asking so many questions, but even if he won’t get an answer it’s only right to ask. Steve doesn’t get one, so he goes to the fridge and pulls out some eggs, Thor watching him closely all the while.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The toaster pops, and Thor jumps.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry,” Steve leaves the stove and hurries over, plucking out the toast and dropping it onto a plate. “Sorry, </span>
  <span>shoulda</span>
  <span> warned you.” He pulls out a knife and butters the pieces, pushing the plate across the counter. “Here,” he smiles. “You’re probably hungry.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor stares at the plate apprehensively, and Steve wonders if they have bread in space. Either way, it might just be Steve the alien doesn’t trust, not that the food is unfamiliar. </span>
  <span>So</span>
  <span> the Captain takes a slice and has a bite, stepping away and turning back to his frying pan. A few seconds later, he hears the crunch of bread. He smiles and cracks his eggs into hot butter, humming a little tune to himself to fill the silence.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>A second later, Thor appears at his side out of nowhere, without making a sound. There are a couple of stray bread crumbs in his beard, and he licks some butter off his finger as he stares down into the eggs. Steve looks up and points at the nob that controls the heat, giving it a turn either way before resetting it to how it was. Then he goes back to moving the eggs around the pan as they cook. He was only planning to make a few for Thor, but come to think of it he’s pretty hungry too.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Grab me that plate?” he points at the one left on the counter. “Please?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor obliges, moving away like a ghost and reappearing beside him with it.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks,” Steve takes it and sets it down, scraping the eggs onto it. He sets it aside and shuts off the hob. “Your turn,” he suggests, stepping trustingly away. He has no problem cooking for Thor, but he gets the feeling his roommate might prefer to be self-sufficient. Then he won’t have to be subject to Steve’s timing, and if his plan is to avoid Steve altogether, he’ll be able to do that better. Steve hopes that’s not the case.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>For a minute it looks like Thor might just walk away, but he takes hold of the pan handle and reaches for the heat. He turns the dial to exactly where Steve had it. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve offers the butter and the knife, nodding when Thor flicks his eyes up to confirm that he’s cut off enough. The butter goes into the pan, hissing as it touches the still-hot surface. Mesmerized, Thor tips the little chunk of butter and glides it all around until it’s melted.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Next come the eggs. Thor lifts the pan off the heat and takes the one Steve gives him, cracking it against the edge without waiting for instruction. Either he’s done it before, or caught a glimpse of Steve doing it and learns fast, because the egg cracks neatly into the butter. Steve remembers the first egg he tried to crack after the serum, and it was a mess, but Thor has perfect control over his own strength.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>A little bit of shell has still dropping in though. Thor reaches out with his finger, but Steve shakes his head and takes half the shell out of the alien’s hand. He scoops the bit of shell out with that instead, then trades the other half for a fresh egg. Thor cracks two more into the pan, scooping out one more bit of shell with an empty half before throwing it into the </span>
  <span>compost</span>
  <span> as instructed. He rinses his hands, and Steve takes some pepper out of his cupboard.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor freezes and stares at the black powder suspiciously.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s just pepper,” Steve reassures, tipping some onto his finger. He licks it off. “It’s </span>
  <span>kinda</span>
  <span> spicy. Tastes good, I promise. But you don’t have to have any if you don’t want it.” He offers out the container.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor plucks it out of his fingers and examines it, making no effort to hide how little trust he has for it. But he does tip a little onto his finger and has a small taste. Then he turns and shakes some into the frying pan, handing it back wordlessly.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The pan goes back on the heat and Steve gets another plate. He finishes his toast and eats his own eggs so to stay out of Thor’s way. The alien is getting by on his own, diligently stirring just like Steve did. Forcing himself not to stare at Thor shoulders rippling under his shirt as he stirs, the Captain hums to himself as he eats</span>
  <span>.</span>
  <span> All that power nearly killed him. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Typical. Guy nearly strangles you to death but you move in with him anyway. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Bucky’s voice in his head brings a small smile to his face.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a click as Thor turns off the stove. Diligently, the alien scrapes his eggs onto a plate and leaves the pan to one side, looking up at </span>
  <span>Steve</span>
  <span> as he </span>
  <span>stands</span>
  <span> over the steaming plate.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s for you,” Steve motions. “There’s cutlery in the drawer in front of you. You can come sit if you like.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor doesn’t hesitate for as long this time, pulling out a fork and knife from the drawer and joining Steve at the table. He sits respectfully across from the soldier and flicks his eyes up before prodding some egg with his fork. This time he seems less wary of the food and more adverse to the company and a watching pair of eyes.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>In response, Steve stands, placing his empty plate in the sink. “I’ll go get unpacked,” he explains casually. “I’ll finish showing you around when you’re done.” He walks away from the kitchen and back to the landing for his bags, wondering what sort of accommodations Thor had in space. He seems to be in good physical shape, healthy and well-fed, so it’s possible he was given a proper bed. Steve taps his foot as he looks around the hallway at his other rooms. He’s got a spare room where he’s stuffed a few of his old possessions Fury gave him when he first moved in. There’s not much, just a couple of boxes full of photos and trinkets. Everything he wanted up is already framed around the house, which amounts to about five photos total. This room will be fine. Steve doesn’t have much to hang on to, and he’s not one to keep useless items hanging around, so the room is fairly empty. He stacks the boxes on a shelf and goes for the boxed mattress.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Pillowtop is something of a miracle. Steve’s barely used to </span>
  <span>sleeping</span>
  <span> on his own, and often finds himself migrating to the nice stiff couch instead. All his fabrics are soft, his sheets, blankets, pillows, and his clothes, which is nice on his skin. The serum made it more sensitive. One thing he certainly doesn’t miss from the war is sleeping on rough surfaces in rough clothes. He’d prefer to sleep on a polished rock than a scratchy mattress. What about Thor? Hardened warriors are often accustomed to sleeping on unforgiving surfaces more often than in a nice bed, so maybe he won’t prefer this premium mattress. Steve might have to share the couch.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He’s getting ahead of himself. There’s still a chance Thor will run off the second Steve is asleep, never to be seen again. Regardless, Steve takes his time with the sheets, folding neat hospital corners. He spreads a duvet on top and folds another at the foot just in case. Steve already has more pillows than he knows what to do with, but whoever dropped by with supplies left him some more. They all go on the bed, which he pushes into the corner. Sometimes Steve likes the couch for the pressure on his back, and he’ll take a wild guess that Thor might like that feeling of security too. Feelings too exposed certainly does the Captain’s PTSD no favors, and he imagines there’s a chance Thor’s got some trauma of his own. Besides, everyone needs to feel safe, like they have their own space where no-one will invade.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve turns and jumps at the sight of Thor lingering in the doorway. “Hey.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor dips his head a little, and his eyebrows twitch toward something apologetic. He pads inside and stops by the bed, staring down at it.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“This is yours,” Steve says. “I’ll go get your clothes and show you the bathroom. Do you want a shower? There’s lots of hot water here.” It always feels endless to him.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He still doesn’t get an answer, but Thor’s expression doesn’t seem so firmly cemented in indifference. His curiosity is less tainted by suspicion, though he’s not exactly at ease. Without any fuss though, he follows Steve to the bathroom.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>SHIELD has left behind some extra supplies here, too – a hair brush, comb, toothbrush, toothpaste, and a razor. Steve arranges it on one side of the sink. “This is yours,” he indicates as he clears out a drawer to put the items in. “And you can use my soap. Oh, and there’s shaving cream up here,” he opens one of his own drawers and sets the tin on the counter. “Towels are in here,” he pulls a couple from the shelf by the door and drops them into Thor’s arms. It’s possible he’s going into too much detail, but he wants Thor to feel independent, if not at home, though he hopes for both; </span>
  <span>therefore</span>
  <span> Steve beckons Thor inside to show him how to run a bath or a shower, and where he keeps his soaps. He hopes Thor doesn’t mind pomegranate.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Lastly, he demonstrates the lock on the door. That’s his primary concern, that Thor feels safe, even though they both know that lousy lock wouldn’t keep either of them from breaking through if they wanted.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You can shower if you like,” Steve backs toward the door. “I’ll go make some dinner. I’m not much of a cook, but I can heat up a tin of soup as well as anyone.” It would be worth learning a few more recipes, now that he’s got a permanent (so far) guest. Eggs, rice, plain chicken, and tinned soup do him just fine, but he can’t assume Thor will enjoy that too. Steve’s never found the motivation to learn to cook better, but perhaps this is the incentive he needs.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you.” Thor’s rough, quiet voice draws him from his somewhat-frantic thoughts. Of course there’s still some distrust lingering, but there’s genuine gratitude there too, so Steve focuses on that and smiles in return.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re welcome,” he says as he dips out. “Holler if you need something.” He doubts Thor would do that, but it’s the sentiment that counts. </span>
  <span>Steve</span>
  <span> shuts the door behind him and walks away, hearing the click of the lock a few seconds later. A few more, and the water starts to run. </span>
  <span>Of course</span>
  <span> Thor has no trouble figuring out the tap, and he hears the clink of the pin directing the water from the faucet to the shower head and the rustle of the shower curtain.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve sighs and goes to see about dinner. A tin of soup isn’t going to be enough food for either of them, so while the chicken noodle heats, he goes to the fridge to see what he can find to accompany it. Since waking up, trying to cook for himself has become overwhelming; there are so many kinds of food, in such abundance, he doesn’t know where to start. Oranges and bananas, what used to be practically delicacies when he was a kid, are suddenly cheap and accessible. Apples in a thousand varieties fill the shelves at the supermarket. Coffee is no longer a treat but a required commodity. Sugar is just as easily </span>
  <span>acquired</span>
  <span>. Anything </span>
  <span>Steve</span>
  <span> wants, he can buy. Pineapples. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Pineapples. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He could eat steak every day if he wanted, and could justify it with his high-protein diet.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>As it sits, simple is better for now. Steve will try his hand at steak another day. He makes grilled cheese sandwiches and puts them in the oven to cook while he makes a salad to go along with it. Steve’s always had dexterous hands, but again the serum has amplified that – the things he can do with a knife and a carrot are stunning. He imagines Thor could do some damage to a vegetable too, with those knives he carried on his person. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He’s probably going to get bored if he doesn’t have anything to do.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Then again, giving the alien chores might not be the best option... Steve doesn’t mind handling everything, though he knows if it were him living in someone’s house he’d want to help. He’ll think on it. There’s no rush.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>By the time dinner is ready, the water shuts off and Thor emerges shortly after. His hair is damp and dark, hanging loosely around his face. It’s still weighted with water, but the waves are coming back as it dries. Steve loses his voice for a moment at the sight of chiseled features softened and swollen pink with heat, radiating the smell of pomegranate.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve can’t hold back his bright smile as he hands over a bowl. “Soup?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor looks so much more human, but Steve can’t quite put his finger on why. Is it because he’s a fraction looser? Because his hair is down and he’s tucking some behind his ear before taking the bowl a little less cautiously than before? All of the above, probably. Thor takes the ladle when it’s handed to him, and Steve trustingly turns his back. It might take a while before they converse with words, he assumes, but he expects to have to prove it.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve sets the table and lays out a plate of salad, and another of grilled cheese sandwiches sliced in half. It makes him wonder what sorts of foods Thor will turn out to dislike – cheese is a possibility. Anything is, really. Who knows what the alien was used to eating on </span>
  <span>Asgard</span>
  <span>, then wherever he ended up </span>
  <span>after.</span>
  <span> But apparently, he’s spent some time on Earth before, so not all of this food will be unfamiliar. Thor visited Earth not long before Steve was born, after all.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>So far, Thor’s not turned down anything; he’s either too polite or too practical to turn down food, or he simply isn’t bothered by any of it. He sits at the table where Steve’s laid a place for him and has an experimental nibble of sandwich before adding it and another half to his plate. He adds some salad, too, with small glances up to make sure it’s alright. Steve pours him some juice in one cup, and water in another, doing his best not to ignore his new roommate without staring at him either. The need to incite conversation is growing inside of him, but he leaves it alone and lets Thor eat in peace. Steve eats quickly so he can make himself busy washing dishes, and Thor gains confidence, working away at the food available to him without showing signs of slowing. Feeding both of them is going to be a learning experience.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve barely hears Thor get up and gather his plate with the water running, but he turns in time to spot there’s still food left on the table – enough for one more plate-full. He waves Thor back toward the table. “Finish it,” he offers, pausing his washing to bring over the pot of soup and tip the last bowl-full into Thor’s bowl. His mama raised him to be a good host, not that they ever had too many visitors aside from Bucky. Then again, Bucky hardly counted as a visitor even before he moved in with Steve. He was always part of the family, just like Steve was always welcomed with open arms into the Barnes household and fed generously. Sarah Rogers wouldn’t take charity, but money in the form of food was always hard to turn down, and it was rude to refuse food that was offered.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>A few minutes later, Thor appears at his side with a stack of empty plates and bowls, the cups and cutlery neatly balanced on top. He sets all the serving-ware by the sink and hangs back, waiting for permission or instructions.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks,” Steve starts to rinse a bowl. “There’s </span>
  <span>ice-cream</span>
  <span> in the freezer if you want some.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Recognition eclipses Thor’s eyes very slowly as he starts to move back and turn around, walking for the freezer and pulling it open. Sure enough, there’s the tub of chocolate-caramel ice-cream Steve spotted earlier. To his delight, Thor sets the tub on the counter and peels off the lid, scooping some into a bowl. Steve turns his back with a little smile, finishing up the last few dishes. When he turns around, there’s a second bowl laid out for him at his place. It’s impossible to fight back a grin, so he doesn’t try, just sitting across from Thor to enjoy desert. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You like ice-cream?” he tries. It seems like a safe topic, separated from recent events.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor flips his spoon upside-down and eats the ice-cream off it, moving it around his mouth and swallowing with a forlorn stare. “I did,” he murmurs with a soft, remembering frown. “I do.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, you can have some whenever you want,” Steve smiles. “And you can eat in your room if you want, or on the couch. You don’t have to hang out with me. But you can, if you want that.” He tacks that quickly on the end, just in case Thor thinks the Captain is trying to get rid of him. Thor doesn’t seem to be in a state to expect the best of people or interpret positively, if he ever was that sort of person. Steve doesn’t want to leave any room for misinterpretation, and he’s lucky that honesty comes naturally to him – he's about as sly as a megaphone.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor doesn’t get up though. He finishes his ice-cream in silence, enjoying each spoonful more openly than the last. His expressions are still subtle and reserved by the end of the bowl, but less than when he started. Steve minds his own business and collects the bowls, adding them to the sink.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m going to read for a little while,” he says. “But you can do what you want. Are you still hungry?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Offering a solid answer for once, Thor shakes his head.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you want something to read? I have a few books you can choose from,” Steve offers. Thor cocks his head a little and thinks about it for far too long, so the Captain intervenes. “I’ll bring you some, and you can read them if you like. I’ll be up at four am – there's a clock on the wall in your room – and I’ll be back from the gym at seven-thirty. I can make you some breakfast then if you want, or you can help yourself. If you need anything, just come get me.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor clearly doesn’t know what to make of all that information, so Steve leaves him to think on it and bids him goodnight, walking to his room and closing the door. He forces himself to stop thinking about Thor and wondering what he’s up to, focusing instead on the bags Fury gave him.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>There’s the shield, of course, which he pulls out and sets on his lap as he sits on the edge of his bed. Throughout his life as Captain America, this shield has been a constant friend. It’s followed him where Bucky and Peggy and his ma couldn’t. No matter what befalls it, the metal can always be polished, and the paint always reapplied. The leather straps can be repaired. No matter how much the world he lives in or the suit he wears changes, his shield will always be the same. It’s his foundation. Whoever he chooses to be starts here, with his core values. Steve sets his shield against the wall where he can see it from his bed, under the shelf that holds a clock and a couple of favorite photos of loved-ones gone.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The other bag holds his new black uniform, and all the accessories – Fury's invite to get back in. He has to admit, it felt good to wear the suit (albeit quite different to the original), to fight for something. SHIELD does some good in the world, even if he’s not totally aligned with their methods. He likes the idea of working with Natasha, too, and Barton, and the other Avengers. Having a team of warriors and friends, of people like him. People who don’t quite fit in. They all have their stories, their special skills, that set them apart. They’re very different, but the same in many ways. Being around them might help, even if he’s not totally ready to share himself with them just yet. Not everything. Not his deepest, darkest battles.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a lot on his mind. Steve zips his uniform back up and slides the bag into a corner with the empty shield case. He changes out of his jeans and into some sweats, setting his phone on the nightstand. He’s about to gather those books for Thor when he notices he has a message.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>It’s from Natasha: </span>
  <b>
    <span>get home ok?</span>
  </b>
  
</p><p>
  <b>
    <span>all good,</span>
  </b>
  <span> he replies. </span>
  <b>
    <span>w</span>
  </b>
  <b>
    <span>hat about you?</span>
  </b>
  
</p><p>
  <b>
    <span>staying w tony for a while. he said you should come</span>
  </b>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve smiles to himself. He appreciates the offer, but he knows it’s better to try this set-up first, where there aren’t so many people around Thor. </span>
  <b>
    <span>thanks, but this is safer</span>
  </b>
  
</p><p>
  <b>
    <span>how r things? he try to run yet?</span>
  </b>
  
</p><p>
  <b>
    <span>so far so good, just quiet. said about two words. he seems scared</span>
  </b>
  
</p><p>
  <b>
    <span>let him come round,</span>
  </b>
  <span> Natasha advises.</span>
  <b>
    <span> might take a while. maybe he never will</span>
  </b>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve needs to be prepared that he might not succeed – Thor might always be distant and silent, until he either makes a run for it or agrees to return home. </span>
  <b>
    <span>t</span>
  </b>
  <b>
    <span>hank you. see you tomorrow?</span>
  </b>
  
</p><p>
  <b>
    <span>6am sharp old man ;) keep us updated. we'll help where we can</span>
  </b>
  
</p><p>
  <b>
    <span>will do,</span>
  </b>
  <span> he promises, further encouraged that he’s not in this alone. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The apartment is dead silent. Steve puts down his phone and stands, sliding a few books off the shelf and walking a bit heavier than usual toward the spare room. He knocks on the door and waits a moment or two, listening intently. There’s not a sound coming from the other side, so he carefully turns the nob and nudges open the door. Thor is standing right there, rigid and wary. He loosens a little at the sight of Steve and his armful of books.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry.” Steve offers them. “Told you I’d bring you these. I won’t bother you again, I promise.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor takes the books and watches him start to back away. The alien looks down at the bundle of paperbacks curiously, rubbing the pages of the bottom one with his thumb.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You okay?” Steve’s not sure what kind of answer he expects, but it’s only right to ask.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Of course</span>
  <span> Thor doesn’t answer, staring forward. The </span>
  <span>dilemma</span>
  <span> in his eyes is telling enough, though Steve knows Thor is probably very far from okay, whether the alien knows it or not.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry, I’ll go,” he gives a smile and shuts the door quietly behind him, returning to his own room to focus as much as he can on his own book. It’s far too early for him to fall asleep just yet, and he knows stress is going to make harder than usual. Nightmares generally interrupt his sleep anyway, but tonight he’s got company to worry about.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He’s not worried about Thor hurting him; Thor isn’t going to try to kill him in his sleep, that he’s confident of. What he </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> worried about is finding that spare bedroom empty tomorrow. He’ll have to call Fury, and Loki will have to take Thor away. Steve doesn’t want to make that call, because that brokenness in Thor’s demeanor at the very suggestion makes him feel ill. Unfortunately, it’s out of his control. He’ll go to sleep, and Thor will either make his move, or he won’t. He’s done the best he can do.</span>
  
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Chapter warnings: this chapter contains rape. It is not detailed, and is very brief, but if you want to skip it, skip where Proxima Midnight Shows up in the flashback, to when she leaves. </p>
<p>Otherwise, enjoy! I look forward to your feedback as always.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Thor lies very still and listens to the noises of the building. He can hear Steve moving around his room; the soldier goes quiet for a while, but every now and then there’s the crinkle of a turning page, or the rustle of sheets. A few hours later, and Steve gets up. He walks into the hallway, and Thor sits quietly off his bed and watches the door. But Steve keeps walking, flicking on the light in the bathroom and shutting the door. The water runs, and he brushes his teeth. Then he shuts off the light and pads back to his bedroom, shutting the door behind him once more. Sheets rustle again, then everything is quiet again.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The clock on the wall reads one-o'clock. Thor lies back down with a soft sigh. He can hear creaking wood and the rumble of a heater somewhere. Out in the kitchen, the fridge whirs. If Thor strains, he can just about hear Steve’s broad chest drawing in slower, deeper breaths. Finally, they settle into a rhythm, and Thor concludes that the soldier has fallen asleep.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He waits another half-hour, minding the clock. Steve rolls over once, but otherwise doesn’t stir. Thor gets up, rolling off the mattress and making absolutely no sound as he moves into the living-room. He’s already found the creaks in the floor, though there aren’t many spots. He could escape without a problem. He could kill Rogers, if he wanted to. There are plenty of knives in the kitchen, though his bare hands would do. It amazes him how trusting Steve appears to be. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Stupid. </span>
  </em>
  <span>But Steve is young. Thor isn’t good with guessing human ages, but he reckons by appearance that the soldier is among the youngest of the little group that was visiting him in the SHIELD cell.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>But Steve has lived a life, perhaps longer than the others if Thor recalls human lifespans correctly. He spots a couple of photos on the mantle by the television, and stalks over. They’re black-and-white, and when Thor slides one out of the frame, it’s dated to 1943.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dressed in a uniform similar in design but much brighter and with many more buckles, Steve stands beside another man of similar age. The star is still there, and his shield hangs on his back. He’s got a helmet under his arm, his other arm wrapped around the shoulders of his friend. They’re laughing, and though Steve looks the same age now as he does in the photo, he’s somehow aged a great deal. The man asleep in bed just down the hall behind him is much older than this man in his hands.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor carefully slides the photo back into place and resets the frame exactly where he found it, moving on. He has all the details he needs on his host to know how to escape. There’s a window in the living-room, covered by a blind. When he peers out, he sees a steel-grated frame – some stairs. The ground isn’t very far to jump though, not for him. He could jump down from the top of the building and not suffer for it. The window even has an easily latch, so there’s no need to break it, though in an urgent need to escape he certainly could. He could escape through the front door, too, and into the apartment block. There, he could easily take the stairs to the ground, or up to the roof and jump down.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s good to know he’s not trapped, but Thor doesn’t plan to escape. Not yet, at least. Right now, this is fine. He can finalize his plan from here, keep an eye on Rogers, and stay safe from Loki. Asgard is no longer a threat, and his vulnerable glass prison is gone too. Here is much more protected, and there are no cameras on him that he knows of. Rogers doesn’t seem like that sort of person, but he wouldn’t put it past the man with the eye-patch to spy on both of them.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>There are no other rooms to explore, though he does find a linen closet he could fit inside if need-be, as well as a broom closet. There’s a final closet, but what looks like a washer and dryer are stacked in there. Content with his examination, Thor goes into the bathroom.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s been a while since he’s looked at himself in a mirror. It’s been a while since he’s had his hair down, too. Thor slides open the drawer Rogers designated for him and lifts out the hairbrush, smoothing down his dried locks. The soap he tried made it feel so soft and clean, though Asgardians have always had strong and resilient hair. He takes out the tie he removed for his shower and pulls all his hair into a loose ponytail, observing himself in the mirror once more. His beard will need a trim tomorrow morning, but it’s his shirt that takes him by the most surprise; it’s been a long time since he’s worn anything so casual. Even his casual clothes aboard the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sanctuary II</span>
  </em>
  <span> were form-fitting and wearable in battle.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Feeling safe enough to try sleeping, Thor goes back inside his room and shuts the door. He’s not fond of taking off his clothes, but he’s truly alone, so he selects some comfortable-looking sweat pants from the bag Rogers brought in for him, quickly exchanging his jeans for them.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>These blankets are amazingly thick and heavy. Thor finds immediate comfort in the first, and unfolds the second to spread over himself. He pushes the pillows around a little, stuffing one between his back and the wall, and wrapping his arms around another. The only person who could hurt him is asleep, though he doubts more and more strongly that Rogers isn’t going to do that. He’s not about to trust the soldier, but he genuinely doubts the man intends to cause harm, may not even be capable of it. His superior though...? Thor considers the possibility that the man with the eye-patch may be using Rogers. Thor will just have to be careful.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He shuts his eyes, and it’s a lot easier to sleep wrapped up safely in these blankets, and not surrounded by glass.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>--</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thanos</span>
  <span> is waiting for him this time, Midnight hanging back. Thor walks across the familiar rock, though he knows his body isn’t really here. It feels real enough, and that’s all that matters. All that matters is Thanos’ warm hand clasping his head.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Have they hurt you, little one?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” Thor replies, dipping his head in respect.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And the plan?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Loki has returned to </span>
  <span>Asgard</span>
  <span>, and will no longer a pose a threat. If I keep quiet, he will not be summoned,” Thor explains, meeting Thanos’ eye. There’s no use lying, especially since he’s bad at it. Thor doesn’t want to anyway, and he feels no need to make excuses or flounder for explanations. He’s been taught directness. “The scepter is in his possession, but the tesseract is still on Earth. It will not be difficult to retrieve, but I must prepare my plan before I try, and I must have everything else ready. If Loki is summoned, I may not be able to stop him.” One touch is all it takes for the magic to overtake him and render him unconscious, useless.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thanos</span>
  <span> has endless patience. He’s been striving for his goal for hundreds of years – what are a few more months? His tone remains understanding and inquisitive. “You’re staying with the enemy.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The one the others trust most,” Thor agrees. “He appears to have favor and importance among them. If I can learn about their group, it will most likely be from him.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is he dangerous?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Harmless,” Thor scoffs. “I defeated him twice in battle.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Though he is strong. And tenacious. But no threat to us or the plan.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Learn what you can from them,” </span>
  <span>Thanos</span>
  <span> agrees. “I can send spies to help you locate and retrieve the components you need for the portal. If you keep them hidden, I will send someone to help build it, then you can bring the tesseract.” </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor nods. “I’ll find out what I can as quickly as possible.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know you will,” </span>
  <span>Thanos</span>
  <span> smiles at him with trust.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>--</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Two weeks in, and he’s already learned so much. He’s faster, and his instincts are better. When he’s not training, he’s sitting in his room calling Mjolnir to him, and when he’s not doing that, he’s with Thanos.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> has so much to teach him. </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> has high expectations, but unlike Odin gives </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>praise</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> more readily. Thor feels like he has a place here, and he feels like his abilities are appreciated and admired. The other children aren’t so friendly, but they keep things professional and otherwise stay out of his way. It doesn’t bother him so much, and he’s certain they’ll warm up to him eventually.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>It’s nearly time for bed, so he pauses calling Mjolnir and gets up to go for a walk. There are so many little corridors to explore, though Thor stays to the areas </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> showed him. He’s curious about the very bottom deck, though. What could possibly be beneath those cells? More cells? That’s a lot of cells, though Thor still doesn’t know all the details of Thanos’ work. Maybe he apprehends miscreants on those planets he goes to help. </span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>A small peek won’t hurt. Thor presses he elevator button, and nothing stops him from descending all the way to the belly of the ship. As soon as the doors slide open, he’s faced with darkness. There’s barely enough light for his powerful eyesight to see beyond the thin streak of light provided by the elevator. Is this a storage area of some kind? That would explain the lighting. Thor looks around for a switch, but he can’t see one, at least not in the small amount of light.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Maybe he should leave. Clearly, there’s not much down here worth seeing. Thor is about to back straight into the elevator, but he hears a whine and a growl somewhere ahead. Squinting, he searches he inky shadows. “Hello?” Is someone stuck down here, or lost? He starts to walk toward the sound, his boots rattling the grating under them. A breeze is wafting up through them – ventilation? The growling persists, echoing through the room. “Is someone there? I’m not here to hurt you.”</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The elevator doors slide shut, removing any light provided. Thor pauses to let his eyes adjust, but if he couldn’t see anything then, he certainly can’t now. As far as he can tell, the room is empty aside from a panel on the wall. A light switch, maybe? Thor walks cautiously toward it, still looking around for the source of the sound. With the echo, it’s impossible to pinpoint. The light will help. Thor fumbles for the switch and pulls it.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The lights don’t come on. Instead, the floor rattles as the grates start to move. The growling gets louder as it spreads throughout the room. Thor reaches for the switch, but it’s too late: a black shape scrambles through the grate as it slides open, launching itself through the air and straight into Thor. The creature knocks him down with a thud, snarling and clawing at him. Immediately, more claws reach out of the floor to drag him back. Thor wrestles, but a set of claws have already sunk into his shoulder and are dragging him down through the grate. Inside is a writhing sea of bodies, all fighting each other to get their jaws on hot meat.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Thor can’t see, but he doesn’t need to: he swings a punch and it hits. The creature whines and is quickly replaced by another. Countless claws and teeth gouge his skin, piercing his clothes. Thor shakes them off as fast as he can, fighting for some leg room so he can jump up to the floor above and hit that switch. These animals aren’t giving him that chance, though. There are too many. One creature </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>scrambles</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> over its brothers and snaps for Thor’s head, slobbering hungrily. Thor bats out with his fist and smacks it away, roaring back and kicking away the heaving mound of creatures in front of him. He bunches his legs and jumps, throwing a beast off his arm. In the darkness and his own urgency, he misses the opening and hits his head on the underside of the floor instead. His skull strikes the thick metal floor with an ear-ringing clang, and he falls back, dazed. In seconds, the creatures are back on him.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>One of them wraps its jaws around his waist and pulls, tearing flesh as it tries to drag him out from under the others. Thor fights to get his arms down there and grabs the beast by the jaws, prying it off his stomach and throwing it into another pouncing for his legs. More immediately replace them, one biting his leg, another his arm, and they both try to pull their prey in opposite directions. Thor rolls and pulls, kicking and punching and flailing in the darkness. What he wouldn’t give for his hammer and a bit of lightning... then these beasts would be sorry.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Right now, the odds are stacked against him. The smell of blood is only enraging the creatures further, and they fight for him with growing eagerness. This would be a sad way for the god of thunder to die.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He’s not going to die here. Blue light washes over from above – the elevator. The creatures pause even before a voice barks out orders. For a minute Thor thinks that’s </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> who’s come for him, but it’s not. It’s Proxima Midnight who drops through the hole, her glowing spear in-hand. The beasts growl and snap, but they back away. Thor doesn’t get a chance to see what they look like before they all slink into the shadows, leaving him lying on his back staring up at Midnight, who’s jumped through the hole and stands over him.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She curls her lip and hauls him to his feet, jumping out of the opening with her hand around his arm and flicking the switch. The grates slide closed, and she starts to lead him toward the elevator with a firm grip. Thor can barely walk, can’t make himself form words to explain what happened. All he can do is let her drag him into the elevator. He’s about to give his best effort at an explanation, but she jams something into his neck, and all his words, along with his consciousness, melt away.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>When he wakes up, he’s on his back, cuffed to a table and stripped naked. His clothes were ruined anyway, he thinks as the haze clears. It clears a little more, and he recalls what happened, why his body hurts so much. He can’t see himself very well, but what he can is streaked with blood. It’s dribbling off him and pooling on the table, dripping onto the floor. Drip, drip.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>It looks like the cell he woke up in, only this is a table, not a bed. There are no blankets, and no fixtures other than the light over him.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Is this the end? Does his mistake spell the end of this agreement? </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> is going to get rid of him for this. What will he do, take Thor back to </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Asgard</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>? Dump him on the nearest planet? Eject him into space? Thor shivers, cold and afraid and hurting. Wounds like these won’t kill him, but they do hurt, and they’re enough to make him feel weak with blood loss. These cuffs are too strong anyway, so he doesn’t bother trying to break them beyond an experimental tug. They hold his wrists beside his head, and his legs straight at the ankles.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Midnight doesn’t keep him waiting long. She opens the door and strides in, shutting it behind her and licking her lips. Her fingers drift up to her uniform, unfastening it to her breast-bone. Her stride is loose in the hips, swaying but purposeful. “You are very foolish, little one,” she comes close and runs her finger up his throat to his chin. She grabs his jaw and squeezes her nails into the cuts there. “You get what you deserve.”</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Thor opens his mouth to explain, apologize, something, but she clamps a hand over his mouth and hops onto the table, straddling his hips, growling a warning. He falls silent, staring into her eyes as if he could find answers there – how is this supposed to make sense? Could he ever find reasoning for her behavior? He tries to think of something to justify it to himself, but he can’t. Anger or jealousy don’t make everything add up.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“You’re lucky to have ended up here,” Midnight rubs his cheeks with her index finger, pulling at the edge of a gash in the soft flesh. “You were nothing, left to die. Your family dumped you to the stars.”</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>They didn’t. His family loves him.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“They </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>abandoned</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> you,” Midnight purrs, running her other hand up his chest. “</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> found you. You belong here now. But you must learn. You must learn your place before you can truly become one of us.”</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Thor’s shivering doesn’t abate, even though Midnight’s body is hot against his. She doesn’t care about his bleeding wounds, though they’re all over him so avoiding them is impossible. She shows him no care, though, as she sits on his hips and squeezes him with her thighs. Her hands only come off him as she straightens to take off her uniform, </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>nd</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> she rolls her body against his while she does. Thor is tough, but it hurts, and he doesn’t know what she’s going to do to him. Nothing good, he imagines. With a whimper, he gives his cuffs another tug.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>At the sight of his resistance, Midnight smirks. Her body shines in the dim light, and he can’t deny that she’s beautiful. But he doesn’t want what she’s about to do. He can feel her on him, but he very clearly doesn’t want her. “You can fight all you want,” she purrs. “You may be strong on your planet, but here, you are nothing special. Fight.” She’s daring him.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Thor pushes his heels into the table and strains his arms against the cuffs, but they’re strong enough to hold him. Midnight’s thumb pressing on the teeth marks in his gut wrests another whimper, and he can’t help but squirm under her. Mercilessly, she laughs and shuffles down off his hips. She kneels across his legs and drags her hand down his stomach.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>However</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> he tries, he can’t help his instinctive reactions. Whatever drug she’s given him isn’t helping, only aiding her plans. Thor fights, tries to corner his thoughts and overpower them with anything he can, but it doesn’t help. Midnight is getting what she wants, getting </span>
  </em>
  <span>him</span>
  <em>
    <span> where she wants with her hands. Knowing what’s coming next, Thor shifts his hips and tries once more to escape, but it’s too late. Shamefully, his body wants it too now that she’s prepped him. Thor pleads and begs, but she just crawls up again and has her way with him.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Midnight sighs, sitting across his hips again and shifting to get comfortable. She licks her lips and digs her fingers into his gouged side again. Tears in his eyes, Thor wrenches and bucks to get away, but of course he can’t, and she loves every motion he makes. It hurts too badly to stop himself, though he tries his very best to be strong. Midnight just pushes harder, forcing him to thrust and cry out as she herself shivers with the power and the pleasure she’s enjoying. Thor is at her mercy, tears soaking into the cuts on his face and stinging them. Surely soon she’ll be done.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Finally, she is, and he’s weak with a pleasure that’s nauseating. He’s bled so much over the course of her torment that he’s starting to pass out from it. Maybe that’s why she’s leaving him be, because he’s not able to make this enjoyable for her. Regardless, he’s just grateful it’s over. He can handle the cold of this room and the ache of his wounds, but he wants her hands off of him.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“You did well, little one,” she rumbles in his ear, stroking a hand down the side of his face. “As I expected.”</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Thor yanks his head away, and she chuckles as she walks victoriously out of the room. Now that he’s alone, he can sob more openly. It hurts, and he feels sick, especially at the fading looseness of his body and the temporary blankness of his mind. Between that, the drug, and the worst wounds still bleeding, he can barely string a thought together. It’s maddening and frightening, and all he wants is to curl up in a corner somewhere.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The door opens again, and he jumps at the sound of it, but the blurry shape hurrying toward him is </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>. </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> is here. Thor sighs and goes limp, tears puddling on the table and dripping into his ears.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Shh,” </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> soothes, and the first thing he does is drape a blanket across Thor’s body. “Shh, it’s alright.”</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>It’s very much not alright. “I’m sorry,” Thor blurts. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to...” He babbles apologies and excuses, that it was an accident, and that he never meant to go where he’s not welcome, but </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> just shakes his head and presses a finger to his lips.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“It’s alright,” he promises. “It’s alright, little one.”</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>So</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> Thor falls quiet, panting through his mouth as his cuffs are undone and the blanket wrapped a little tighter around his body. </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> lifts him off the table, careful not to put direct pressure on his wounds, and carries him out of the cell. Before he knows it, he’s being lowered onto his bed.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>A damp cloth falls over his forehead, sweeping down and washing the blood and tears off his face and neck. He shivers, but it feels good. The blanket is folded off him, and </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> sweeps him clean, tender with every wound. “You trusted her...” Thor murmurs, “you said...”</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I do,” </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> replies, placing his hand across Thor’s forehead. It’s warm and safe. “I do. I trusted her to rescue you. Shh. You need rest.”</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos’ hands don’t leave him as he shuts his eyes and goes to sleep.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>--</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor wakes up shivering and squeezing the pillow in his grip. His shirt is stuck to his body with sweat, and he’s whimpering and crying.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The lights are on, and someone’s speaking to him. Thor recoils instinctively, ducking under the duvet and struggling to rein in his trembling. He holds his breath, hoping that if he’s still and silent enough, he’ll be left alone.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>No-one touches him. “Hey, hey, it’s okay.” It takes Thor a moment to realize that’s Steve. He growls and pushes his back tightly against the wall, but Steve’s voice doesn’t get any nearer. “Not </span>
  <span>gonna</span>
  <span> hurt you, okay? Just want to help. You want some water?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor doesn’t answer, afraid to speak or show his face.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, that’s okay. I’m just </span>
  <span>gonna</span>
  <span> get something, alright? I’ll be right back.” Thor hears Steve stand and walk for the door while he huddles as tightly as he can to protect himself from the nightmare. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Midnight isn’t going to spare him when this is over. Midnight is going to do what she always does when he makes a mistake or doesn’t perform as well as he should. Midnight is going to-</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Here,” Steve hurries back in, his footsteps rushed and his tone concerned. “Here.” The soldier sits and sets down an object with a small thud. There’s the sound of whirring, and Thor shivers with fear at what the Captain is going to do to him.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nothing happens. Nothing touches him. There’s just the sound of music. He can’t remember many Earth instruments, but he seems to recall what a </span>
  <span>piano sounds</span>
  <span> like. Is that a trumpet? There are others, too, but they’re new to him. The tune is light and jovial, something you could dance to. It’s a pleasant sound, unlike any he’s heard on Asgard, or his previous visit to Earth. It’s been a hundred years since he heard music. Well, almost... maybe he’s come across some on his missions for Thanos, but only in passing. This is nice. Rain patters outside, bullying the windows and joining in with the tune.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He can breathe. Thor swallows and licks tears off his lips. Finally, he finds the strength to fold away the blanket.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve is gone. He’s left and shut the door behind him. Thor sits and rubs his eyes, wrapping the blankets around his shoulders. There’s a box by his bed, a black disk spinning on it, and a horn coming out the top. The music plays from the horn, a little scratchy, but it only adds to the charm. There’s a glass of water and a box of tissues beside it too. Thor </span>
  <span>sniffs</span>
  <span> and pulls out a tissue, blowing his nose as quietly as he can and wiping his face dry with a fresh one. Sighing, he picks up the water and has a sip, too weary to care if Rogers has put anything in it. It tastes normal, cool and refreshing, bringing him back down. Thor sips again, enjoying the music as company. He’s not sure what to make of Rogers’ entrance, or even how he feels about it, but he’s enjoying the music at the very least.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor finishes his water and lies back down, clutching the pillow and watching the black disk spin. He seems to recall there being a similar device in the house when he last visited Earth. It’s a phonograph, he’s pretty sure, and an old one. It must be, among all this other superior technology. Earth has come a long way in a hundred years. This must be more of a comfort than a commodity. Or perhaps Rogers is a collector of old things, of relics. Does he dream of the past? Of the early nineteen-hundreds? When did these go out of style?</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>With the lights on and the music playing, Thor falls back to sleep. It’s peaceful this time, and he wakes up tired but feeling better. The music has long-stopped, and the house is silent.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The clock on the wall reads six-am, and the rain is still pounding. Steve’s already left. Thor rubs his face, sitting and folding down the blanket. Everything is as he left it, but a note’s been pushed under the door. A little unsteady, Thor walks slowly over and crouches to pick it up.</span>
  
</p>
<p><em><span>Have a good morning :) see you at 7:30</span></em> <br/><em><span>Steve</span></em></p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>As if it could be from anyone else.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He snorts to himself. Thor stands at the door and lets his arms hang at his sides, the paper gripped loosely in his hand, lost for what his next move should be. With a long-suffering sigh, he tips forward and rests his forehead against the door. If he hadn’t seen such an intelligent glint in Steve’s eyes, he would think the man a moron. He’s still partially convinced the soldier could still be a moron, with how open he is. When Midnight comes for Thor, Steve will be too easy to capture and hand over. All Thor would have to do is ask for help, and Steve would come right to him. A knock on the head is all it would take. Steve is just the type Midnight would enjoy. She would take apart the soldier’s optimism and destroy that friendly smile. She would pick him apart and make him weep. She could make sure he never smiled again.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor drops the paper and rips open the door. He runs to the bathroom and fumbles for the light switch, collapsing by the tub. He grasps the side and throws up. There’s nothing in his stomach, so it burns his throat. Thor coughs and spits, wiping his eyes. He can feel himself starting to shake again, so he hurriedly turns on the water and washes everything away.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Once the evidence is gone, he stands and limps into the hallway. First, he checks that Steve is truly gone, and indeed the soldier’s bedroom is empty. The bed is perfectly made, and everything is neatly organized, what little Steve actually owns. There’s strikingly little, though Thor immediately spots the shield in the corner. It’s polished to perfection, that star shining bright silver in the middle. Curiously, Thor pads toward it and leans over to touch it. He picks it up, and is amazed at how light it is. It’s impossible to resist the urge to run his hand around the edge, which inevitably leads to his arm sliding through the straps.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wonders what the star is for. As far as he’s seen, no-one else bears that mark. It’s clearly a symbol tightly bound to the soldier. Thor </span>
  <span>carefully</span>
  <span> reset the shield where he found it and exits the room.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve has left an assortment of juice on the kitchen counter for him, a bag of oatmeal, and another little note:</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Help yourself. Boil the kettle for oatmeal. Milk’s in the fridge, cereal’s in the cupboard. There’s water, juice, tea, and coffee. Lots of fruit in the fridge too. </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Of course</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> you can have eggs and toast like yesterday if you prefer. Or wait till I get back and I can make you something.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Too many choices. Thor shakes his head and settles for water, putting all the juice back in the fridge. He’s pretty sure he ate oatmeal on Earth a hundred years ago, so that seems safe. The kettle isn’t hard to figure out either, and soon he’s sitting on the sofa nursing a hot bowl of oatmeal and staring around at the same handful of photos.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Looking at them again makes him realize how haunted Steve’s eyes are in comparison. His hair is the same, but his smile isn’t as boyish. It’s still been bright every time the soldier casts him with it, but lacking a little something it clearly used to have. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>There’s very little of Steve around the house. </span>
  <span>Thanos</span>
  <span> taught him how to read people, how to catalogue their character. Looking around, there’s really nothing that says a whole lot about who Steve is, about what he likes and what he’s done other than a few photos. Thor has been to many planets and met many species, and they’ve all had possessions around their dwellings that tell a story of who they are. Not a complete story, but a starting place. A framework. There’s almost nothing to go on here, other than the neatness, though that could simply be down to the lack of objects to organize.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The space feels lonely and unloved.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor finishes his oatmeal and places his bowl in the sink with last night’s dishes. While he trudges to the bathroom to shave, he thinks about what he’ll say when Steve gets home. Thank you? Sorry? Both? He feels he owes the soldier something, at least an </span>
  <span>acknowledgement</span>
  <span> of what happened, but the thought of facing Steve and talking about it when he gets home makes his knees feel weak and his chest tighten. Sentiment is one thing, but stringing it into a sentence is another – as much as he’s grateful for the help Steve so </span>
  <span>graciously</span>
  <span> tried to give, Thor can’t find an order to lay out his words.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor shaves and brushes his hair, doing his best not to look to closely at himself in the mirror as he does. He ties back his hair and returns to his room, shutting the door, making his bed, and sitting cross-legged over the sheets. As the clock on the wall ticks closer and closer to seven-thirty, he makes no progress. In the end, it’s too late, and he sits rigid as he hears Steve opening the front door and walking inside. Listening to the soldier’s every move, Thor maps his course around the apartment – to the kitchen for water, back to the landing to pick up what sounds like a bag, then down to the bedroom. Then Steve goes right back out into the kitchen, and starts getting out food and equipment. Thor sighs a little and flops back on his bed, turning his head to stare at the phonograph. He’ll have to face Steve eventually.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Not now, though. Steve makes himself some food and eats it out in the kitchen while Thor listens intently to every clink of cutlery on the dining ware. He sits up again as the soldier moves around the house, jolting a little when he’s called to. “I’m going out!” Steve announces from the landing. “Be back in a few hours to make lunch!”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor opens his mouth to reply, but the words catch in his throat. It’s too late – the door shuts, and everything is quiet again.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>--</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>By the time Steve gets home, Thor’s deeply buried in one of the books the soldier left for him. At the sound of the door opening, he jumps and closes it, dropping it and sitting up straight on his bed. This time, Steve knocks on the door. Again, Thor stalls to get up and open it. He waits too long and </span>
  <span>Steve</span>
  <span> opens the door himself, a box under one arm and another at his feet. The soldier is soaking wet, his bangs plastered to his forehead.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He catches Thor staring. “Bit of a storm out there,” he explains bending to pick up the other box. “Sorry to bother you... just thought you might like somewhere to put your stuff.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor doesn’t reply, turning his back to the wall and watching Steve carry the boxes in. There are pictures on them, one of a smallish round table, and another of a dresser. He cocks his head and stares at them curiously while Steve hurries off and returns with a black-and-yellow case. The soldier gets to his knee and sets it down, opening it to reveal a handful of tools. Thor shivers at the sight of them, despite their clean and colorful handles.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can build them for you, but I thought you might like to,” Steve smiles, nudging the case of tools closer. “Or we can do it together.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor doesn’t know what to think. He slides off the mattress and shuffles closer, turning one of the boxes to face him. The table must be </span>
  <span>disassembled</span>
  <span> inside the box. He’s never built a table before. Or anything, really.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Here, why don’t we start together, and see how it goes,” Steve suggests patiently, his smile never fading even though he must be freezing with how wet he is, and probably frustrated that Thor can’t seem to open his mouth to at least acknowledge he’s being addressed. But no, the Captain’s demeanor doesn’t wane as he pulls open the first box and slides out the components for a table – a few planks of wood, a plastic bag of metal fasteners, and some paper instructions.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve unfolds the paper and starts to lay out the pieces, out of which Thor curiously picks up the bag and opens it. There are all kinds of screws and washers inside, and he spots some screwdriver heads with the right-shaped ends in Steve’s case.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Never done this before,” Steve admits cheerfully as he lays out all the pieces neatly. “You have these where you come from?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tables, yes. Assembly kits, no. Thor shakes his head, figuring Steve means the second.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then you’re just as clueless as me,” Steve laughs, holding two pieces together and lining up the holes. How can he be so relaxed? He </span>
  <em>
    <span>must</span>
  </em>
  <span> be stupid. “Grab me one of those screws?” He taps the </span>
  <span>instructions</span>
  <span>.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor neatly sits cross-legged on the floor and obeys, picking through the bag of fasteners and holding them up one at a time against the image depicted in the instructions. He finds the right one and hands it over, along with the nut and washer to accompany it.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Pass me the screwdriver?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor drags over the case and picks through the heads until he finds one the right size. It’s not too difficult to figure out how to fit it into the handle. A few twists, and its firmly held in place. He hands it over grip-first, and Steve takes it with a little smile, twisting the screw in place. They carry on like this for a few more minutes, Steve asking for pieces, and Thor handing them over according to the instructions. He follows directions blankly, but it’s starts to become soothing – this is very mundane, but rhythmic. The outcome is purely functional, though it does mean something to him that Steve is trying to make his room more comfortable. Does the Captain have ulterior motives in getting them to spend time together? It’s possible, but Thor doesn’t think so, despite Steve’s apparent enjoyment of the task and the company.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor isn’t much company. He doesn’t see why Steve looks so happy. Surely this is a chore. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He is a moron. He must be. There is no explanation. Ignorance is bliss, is that not an Earth saying? </span>
  </em>
  <span>There are none happier than a fool, his father used to say. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve isn’t happy, though. Not deep down. Not when he’s staring off at nothing in particular, lost in a world that spins only inside his head. Thor’s seen that a look a few times now. The soldier’s whole demeanor is stained with melancholy, even now as he frowns with eager concentration and carefully screws another leg onto the table, his tongue poking between his lips. This is the happiest he’s looked since Thor met him, though that’s to be expected though, he reasons: their past few encounters have been less than friendly.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <span>Doin</span>
  <span>’ okay?” Steve gives him a smile that manages to be dopey despite how small and concerned it is.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor nods and focuses on the screws in his hands, looking away from the soldier’s bright blue eyes. Steve is too willing to be friendly. How has he survived like this? Thor almost forgets the man is a strong and capable warrior. He almost forgets the purpose and focus he saw in the soldier’s eyes when they fought, the resolve staring back at him when he had Steve's throat under his fingers.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“All done!” Steve announces proudly. Thor looks up as the Captain rights their creation and sets it firmly on its legs. It looks just like the picture on the box. Steve’s going for the phonograph, but Thor quickly turns and grabs it, pushing it closer to his bed without really thinking – he doesn’t want it up on a table, he wants it right by his head. To his relief, Steve leaves it alone and picks up the pile of books instead. “You want some lunch?” the soldier asks, smoothing out his shirt. His hair isn’t dripping anymore, sticking up a little where he raked it back and it dried funny.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor glances at the other box, then up at a clock – it's twelve. His stomach growls.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We can build this after, if you like,” Steve offers, patting the other box. “Come on. I’ll make us some lunch.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor sits at the table in silence while Steve cooks, listening intently while the soldier rambles a little. It starts as research, so he can fill in these gaps about his host, but turns into genuine comfort. </span>
  <span>Steve's</span>
  <span> voice takes him away from his dream, away from fear, and brings him somewhere else. Steve doesn’t expect any answers when he poses questions, but Thor replies in his head. He can’t even bring himself to say a word as Steve asks him whether he wants sausages with his scrambled eggs or not. Patient as ever, Steve makes the decision to cook some when he doesn’t get a reply, and Thor sinks a little inside at his own inability to speak. The words just won’t come out.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>A plate of hot scrambled eggs accompanied by buttered toast and sausages lands in front of him, but even as his lips make the words ‘thank you’, his throat won’t produce sound.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re welcome,” Steve’s still giving him that friendly smile, his sharp eyes noticing the movement. The soldier sits across from him and keeps talking as he eats his own lunch. “Eggs were one of the few things we ate fairly consistently before the war,” he’s explaining. “Thought I might be sick of them now, but I really like them. It’s a good thing, because they’re cheap, and easy to make. Need to eat a lot.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Earth has had many wars, maybe as many as </span>
  <span>Asgard</span>
  <span>, or perhaps more. </span>
  <span>Asgard</span>
  <span> has seen peace through most of Thor’s lifetime, though he has travelled to other realms to assist with battles there. Earth, however, hasn’t seen those same centuries of peace. Thor wonders how many wars have happened since he last visited, and which one (or ones) Steve fought in. It makes sense that Steve needs to eat so much, if he’s really that much stronger than his companions. He eats just as much as Thor. Those strangulation marks, which should have lasted a lot longer, are entirely gone. Thor can’t see a single trace of them when he looks. To his mild surprise, he’s relieved he didn’t hurt Steve too seriously, or permanently. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Before he knows it, lunch is over and Steve is gathering up the dishes. Then he leads Thor back to his room and goes right for the next box. Thor sighs a little and resumes his position, sitting cross-legged and awaiting another bag of </span>
  <span>fasteners</span>
  <span>.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>There are a lot more pieces in this box, but that’s fine; Thor doesn’t mind the idea of sitting here quietly assisting while Steve works and sometimes talks. Steve is still enjoying this, for some odd reason, delving right into the task.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll get you a lamp tomorrow,” Steve’s saying as he pushes two larger panels together.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor drops a screw into his hand and fits the right head onto the screwdriver, offering it up. A lamp might be nice.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you want to be higher off the ground? I can find you a bedframe if you want, or a box spring.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor doesn’t know what he wants. He’s fine as he is. Height won’t change anything. He shakes his head. He actually </span>
  <span>sort</span>
  <span> of likes it down here.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright,” Steve agrees, turning back to the dresser. “Would you hold this...?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor sets down his bag of fasteners and sits up on his knees, holding the top panel in place so Steve can push in the screws and tighten them on either end. Thor tips it upright and sits back, glancing at the instructions as Steve organizes the pieces for the drawers.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>In a couple of hours, the dresser is built. Steve picks it up by himself and moves it against the wall, standing back to examine their handiwork. Thor stares at it from the floor, warmed by the feeling it adds to the room. This is his, a little project built by his own hands. Well, more by Steve’s.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll leave you to </span>
  <span>organize</span>
  <span> your stuff,” Steve says, flattening one box at a time and gathering up the plastic packaging. He puts the spare fasteners on the shelf and walks for the door, pausing to look back. “I’ll make dinner at six, and you can come eat with me if you like.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you.” Thor actually gets out some words to accompany his little nod.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve’s smile is luminous. “No problem.” The </span>
  <span>soldier</span>
  <span> shuts the door behind him.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>--</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor puts his clothes away, and spends another couple of hours reading. At the sound of Steve moving around in the kitchen, he starts to keep a close eye on the clock. Interesting as it is, he eventually has to put down his book so he can focus on the time. Finally, the hour hand clicks into place, and he gets up.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Perfectly punctual, Steve is just laying down cutlery. He turns and smiles at the sight of Thor waiting and invites him to the table with a gesture. “I made baked potatoes,” he </span>
  <span>explains</span>
  <span>, reaching down to pull a steaming tray out of the over with some big mitts. The soldier sets the pan on the counter, and it’s filled with roasted vegetables. They look </span>
  <span>simple</span>
  <span>, but really good. Steve takes off the mitts and slides a serving spoon beside the tray, scratching his head a little bashfully. “Told you I wasn’t much of a chef.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>A plate is handed to him, and Thor takes it, dishing himself out a reasonable helping while making sure to leave plenty for Steve. He sits and waits politely for the soldier to join him before poking the potato with a fork. Steve has nothing to be embarrassed or apologetic about: this is good. It’s very basic, but Thor likes it. He’s not picky to start with, but this is enjoyable. It’s different from what he’s used to, but it reminds him of his few weeks on the farm a hundred years ago, of food made simply. He remembers eating lots of potatoes and other garden-grown vegetables. These roasted carrots are taking him back. Steve doesn’t talk much this time, but that’s alright because they’re both enjoying their meal. It’s nice just to sit here with someone. When the tray is empty, Steve collects the dishes and serves up more ice cream, which they sit and eat together. The soldier boils the kettle while they enjoy desert, and before Thor can get up to take his bowl to the sink, Steve’s handing him a mug of steaming brown liquid.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>It smells familiar. Thor stares into it and lets the aroma waft up his nose. Coffee. He had coffee once on the farm. Old Mr. Smith hit him with his tractor, and gave him some to drink when he woke up in the stables because he was too heavy to carry back to the house.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“See you tomorrow,” Steve smiles, tirelessly kind.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor opens his mouth, but Steve is already turning away and running the tap to wash up today’s dishes. All Thor can do is walk quietly back to his room, where he sits on his bed to sip his coffee. After a hundred years traveling through space, he’s ended back here, on Earth, a cup of coffee in his hand. He remembers hazily blinking open his eyes, hay poking through the blanket spread under him, two older faces peering over him. Mrs. Smith’s knees had gone, so she stood while her husband knelt to help him drink the coffee and rouse him, both of them profusely apologizing for hitting him while trying to assess if he was alright or not. He remembers being a little sore and bruised, but not terribly hurt. Still confused and reeling from his father’s harsh words in his ear and the journey here, Thor had followed the couple up to their house and inside for some breakfast.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor remembers very clearly what it felt like to be part of that family for those short weeks. He remembers the warmth in his chest when he spent his first day out in the fields helping Mrs. Smith in the garden, and Mr. Smith tend the livestock. He remembers saddling a horse and riding into town to collect some heavier items for the older couple, a bag of flower and some grain for the chickens. Their house hadn’t been the most luxurious, even though they’d shared everything they owned with him, but was the most at-home he’d felt in centuries. Though his room was drafty on a cold night, he couldn’t remember being so warm.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Though Steve’s body is young and physically flawless as far as he can tell, the soldier seems like an old soul with his sad eyes and his patience and never-ending compassion. Well, never-ending as far as Thor’s known him, which is only a few days, so maybe Steve will get tired of him soon. Maybe he’ll call Loki, or turn Thor over to SHIELD. Thor doesn’t want to go back to either.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>His coffee cup runs dry, but the flavor and warmth linger for a long time. As the clock hands spin across the numbers, he reads until he feels tired. Thor gets up and switches off the light, sliding quickly under the covers and cocooning himself with them. He shuts his eyes and goes to sleep, thinking about Steve’s stubborn smile.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>--</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>When he wakes, he can hear someone talking. Thor jolts sitting, staring into the darkness. He can see well enough to know the room is empty, though he remains on high-alert as he rolls stealthily </span>
  <span>out</span>
  <span> of bed and creeps toward the door. Whoever is talking is mumbling incoherently, but they sound distressed.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve. </span>
  <span>Of course</span>
  <span> it’s Steve. There’s only two of them in the apartment. Thor twists his door-nob and cracks open the door so he can hear better. Sure enough, Steve is whispering to himself in his room at the end of the hall, asleep as far as Thor can tell. There’s a rustle of sheets, and a more alarmed outburst of jumbled words. None of it means anything to Thor, though he repeatedly hears something that sounds like ‘Bucky’, which could be an Earth name.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Curious and undeniably concerned, Thor slips out of his room and creeps down the hall, ducking against the wall by Steve’s door and reaching up for the handle. Without a sound he opens this one too, just far enough that he can turn his head and inspect the room. Steve’s there on the bed, his legs tangled in the sheets and only tangling worse as he shifts and moans into the pillows. Sure enough, he’s asleep. Dreaming. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Not a dream, a nightmare. Thor holds still, paralyzed, as he watches the soldier whimper again and mumble some more words. They sound like pleas, and they sound pained.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>What is he supposed to do? He can’t just sit here, and he can’t go back to sleep. These noises will keep him up. Steve helped him last night. Thor can’t go in there though, is afraid to come close. He’s not sure what he’d do if he went in, but instinct is ordering him to do </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Finally, Steve sobs and cries out, and Thor’s body starts to move as if possessed. He leaves the doorway and returns to his room, his steps urgent though continuously silent. Without thinking, he picks up the phonograph and hurries back. Thor sits in the hallway with his back to the hall and holds the device in his lap, turning the horn so it aims through the crack in the doorway. How do these things work again...? Right, the handle. Thor sets the needle and winds the crank.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The black disk spins, and from the horn plays another of those up-beat dance tunes. Cheerful trumpet fills the apartment, overwhelming any other background noise. Almost immediately, Steve quiets and stills. Thor holds the phonograph tightly and listens, ready to dash if the soldier gets up, but Steve doesn’t. He chokes up a quiet sob and swallows roughly. The soldier’s breathing evens out with each exhale, and after a few torturous minutes, he sounds like he’s asleep again. Thor sighs and clutches the phonograph, giving the handle another few winds. He can sit here for a while.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>That he does. Thor sits in pensive silence, thinking hard about what he’s just seen. Neither of them </span>
  <span>is</span>
  <span> alright, that he knows. Steve’s clearly not alright, and therefore by comparison neither is Thor. But what does he know? What right does he have making judgements like this? None, really, though he does feel some relief that what Steve witnessed yesterday is familiar to the soldier. They’re not so different, then, and they aren’t alone. Thor swallows, his throat wanting to speak now more than it has all day.</span>
  
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Chapter 11</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Steve makes a little bit of progress.</p>
<p>Thanks as always for your feedback :) I read and enjoy all of it! Stay safe, enjoy &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Steve Rogers of 1945 is dead, just like Thor of 1912 is. Steve died in the ice, maybe died when Bucky fell off the train. Steve wonders what killed the Thor of 1912.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>People are constantly changing, but they don’t go from what Loki and that old photograph claim Thor used to be, </span>
  <span>to what</span>
  <span> he is now without some serious tampering. Trauma, that’s what’s happened. That’s what’s been done </span>
  <em>
    <span>to</span>
  </em>
  <span> Thor. All Steve has </span>
  <span>are</span>
  <span> assumptions and guesses, not facts, but he’s damn sure someone’s messed Thor up </span>
  <span>real</span>
  <span> bad. So far, all he has is one name – </span>
  <span>Thanos</span>
  <span> – and it doesn’t look like he’ll be getting much more than that anytime soon: Thor’s been worryingly quiet.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>At least he’s been coming out for meals. That alone seems like a huge step. The time they spent working assembling furniture was nice too. Steve just wishes he knew what to say.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>That’s what he thinks about as he goes to bed, that he might be doing this all wrong. What if he’s making this worse? What if he’d be better off leaving Thor alone and staying out of his way? What if he’s saying the wrong things without knowing it? What Steve would hate more than not being able to help would be causing more harm. At the end of the day, Thor might run off and none of this will matter.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve doubts that very much. He frets and worries and takes all that with him to bed, and of course he dreams. He dreams about past failures, about failing to catch Bucky, the one person he swore to protect until the end of days. How can he hope to do any good when he’s already failed this badly? Bucky pushes him off the train and they both lie in a bloody mess in the snowy ravine below, Bucky moaning lies into his ear that sound so convincing. Steve wails for forgiveness, begs and promises that he tried as hard as he could. But Bucky is a conjuring of his own mind, and Steve could never fight himself half as well as he fights anyone else. Steve was only ever good at lying to himself, and that he can do expertly. The mirage of Bucky makes use of that talent and pesters him.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Somewhere in the distance, music starts to play. His ears hear it, and though his brain is still asleep he knows it’s coming from the real world. It drowns out Bucky and anchors Steve. The soldier grabs hold and pulls himself free of the dream, focusing on the music. It allows him to climb out of that trench and into a place where he can rest.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>--</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>When he wakes up, the sheets are a mess. Steve groans and rubs his eyes, kicking his impossibly tangled blankets off his legs. Another nightmare. He takes a moment to sit on the edge of his bed and rub his face. The clock on the wall reads four-thirty, so he hasn’t slept in by much. Something shiny and copper-colored catches eye, and when he looks </span>
  <span>up</span>
  <span> he spots the horn of his phonograph and a leg stretching into the hallway. As quietly as he can, he walks across the carpet and pokes his head around the door.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor is sitting on the floor by the door, the phonograph held tightly in his arms, his body tipped sideways into the corner. One leg is curled up under the music-player, and his lips are fractionally parted. Steve remembers the music that liberated him from the dream, and feels his chest start to tighten and his lips curve into a smile.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Too afraid to move Thor lest he wake the alien, Steve tries to free the phonograph instead. Thor has his arms too tightly locked around it, holding it like a child might cling to a stuffed animal. Steve quickly abandons it and drags a blanket from his room instead, draping it across Thor’s body and tiptoeing off to get dressed. </span>
  <em>
    <span>How long was he out here? Did I wake him...?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Despite the hard surfaces Thor’s body is pressed into, the alien at least looks comfortable, strangely enough. At least he’s sleeping, and peacefully. Steve vividly remembers the previous night. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Look at us... Aren’t we a pair.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Whatever was done to Thor, it hasn’t destroyed his compassion. Somewhere deep down, there’s a shard of himself still remaining, and that’s the foundation they need.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve debates what to write on this morning’s note, whether he should address last night or not. There’s so much he wants to say, and it’s tempting to write more – in the end he settles for simple:</span>
  
</p>
<p><em><span>Thank you</span></em> <br/><em><span>See you at 6. Same offers for breakfast</span></em> <br/><em><span>Steve</span></em></p>
<p>
  <span>No training with Natasha today, so after his morning </span>
  <span>run</span>
  <span> he’s free. Once he gets back, and makes sure Thor’s alright, he’ll go run some errands. It seems cruel to leave Thor behind, trapped in this apartment, but Steve’s not sure what to do. Would Thor even want to wander around the city with him? That seems like a lot to ask, though maybe they could go to the park where it’s easier to enjoy the scenery without interacting with people. It’s something to chew on while he takes his run.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>At this hour, it’s still quiet, especially away from the main traffic routes that are always teaming with traffic regardless of time of day. Steve’s got a few routes he likes to take, areas of the city that don’t wake up for a couple more hours. He can run as fast as he likes without attracting attention. Besides, the air is cooler in the morning, and he likes to watch the sun come up while he burns off steam. Captain America usually has steam to burn, and a nice view can help mediate his thoughts.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>As he leaves his apartment and sets off, his mind is a whizzing frenzy of thought. There’s so much to think about, from Fury’s offer, to the situation with Thor, to his meeting tonight with the Avengers.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>If he takes Fury’s offer, what will that mean for Thor? Working for SHIELD won’t be a 9-to-5. He could be dispatched for days at a time, maybe even weeks. That would leave Thor at home by himself, and though the alien is self-sufficient, Steve’s worried about him all the same. Thor has no-one on this planet, no-one he trusts at least. It’s all too possible Thor might actually enjoy having the apartment to himself for such long stretches, but Steve still doesn’t like the idea of him being by himself. He wants Thor to have someone around to help just in case. </span>
  <em>
    <span>In case he needs someone to just be there.</span>
  </em>
  
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>As the sun peaks over the city, Steve turns around and starts his sprint back home. Thor doesn’t emerge for breakfast today either, so Steve makes some for himself and eats in the living room. Once again, he calls out that he’s leaving, pausing for a moment in case he gets a reply. Trusting Thor is still in the apartment, Steve leaves.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He walks to the department store. At least it’s not raining today. Luckily Steve likes the rain, but it’s nicer to walk in some sunshine. With his ball cap and loose jacket, nobody pays him attention. In the big city, everyone is too focused on their own little worlds to notice that Captain America is wandering among them. Without the uniform, he’s just another man. Steve’s not complaining.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Maybe I should get a car.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Steve likes his bike, but it’s not practical for carrying home the lamp and folding chair he’s bought. Hence why he’s taking a taxi home like yesterday. Oh well, at least Thor shouldn’t need too many more things for his room. This should do it.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Everything is just as he left it when he gets home. Steve shuts the door behind him and listens carefully for a moment or two. He takes care to make a bit more noise than usual as he walks, afraid that he might scare Thor by accident, even though he’s certain the alien has more honed senses than him. Steve doubts he could sneak up on Thor even if he wanted. He puts down his boxes and knocks on the door. “Thor? Brought you some stuff.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>To his surprise, the door opens, and Thor stands there staring at him. Steve holds still to let himself be scanned by the alien’s sharp, wary eyes. Finally, Thor steps back a pace and invites him in. He looks tired, but less so than yesterday. His hair is pulled back in its usual ponytail, and he’s wearing the same clothes as yesterday, but he’s organized his room. All his clothes have been put away, and the bed is made, though a little rumpled. There’s a book on the floor beside it, right next to the phonograph.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How are you?” Steve asks, carrying the boxes inside. He doesn’t expect an answer as usual, but he looks up to make eye contact as he opens the first box.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright.” Thor actually responds, to his mild surprise. It’s not a detailed answer, but Steve feels it’s at </span>
  <span>least</span>
  <span> an honest one.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He smiles back, setting the lamp on the table and plugging it in. “I’ve got a meeting tonight, but I’ll make dinner before I go,” he promises. “And I can make lunch now. What would you like? Eggs sound okay?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>If Thor objects, he won’t admit it, though so </span>
  <span>far</span>
  <span> he seems to at least not hate eggs. He nods complacently, watching with interest as Steve slides the chair out of the box and unfolds it. The soldier sets the chair by the table and flattens both boxes, tucking them under his arm. Thor follows him out into the living room, to the growing pile of recycling, then into the kitchen where he sits politely at the table. The note Steve left on the counter this morning is gone.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Though horribly embarrassed about last night, he needs to say something about it, because it means a lot to him. Thor needs to know how touched Steve is by his gesture. Steve chews on his words as he heats the pan. </span>
  <span>Finally</span>
  <span> he finds the nerve and turns. Thor senses whatever’s hanging in the air and looks up to make eye contact, peering curiously at Steve’s sad smile. “Thank you,” Steve says gently. “For last night. That... really helped.” Thor has no idea how much.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor holds still like there’s a gun to the back of his head, his lips frozen apart and his expression a muddle of emotions. After a few seconds of visibly processing what’s just happened, he shuts his mouth and swallows. “Welcome,” he murmurs, and a little smile tugs at his lips as he looks back at the table.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>--</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Breakfast is spent in silence, but it’s alright, because the atmosphere has changed. Any tension from before has melted away, and the meal feels more natural and relaxed. Steve is quick to leap up and make Thor a cup of coffee before the alien can </span>
  <span>disappear</span>
  <span> back into his room. It’s unfortunate there’s no more furniture to assemble, because building those flat-packs was really fun.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>There’s nowhere else he needs to go today. Nothing is worse than having nothing to do. Back in Brooklyn, when his body was too weak to sustain constant activity, he could bear to spend his days drawing or reading. With the serum, lazy days are unbearable. </span>
  <span>Ordinarily</span>
  <span>, he would go for another run, a slower one to avoid attracting attention, but he wants to stick around for Thor just in case. In case of what? He’s not sure. In the end, he settles for a shower, slipping into a clean change of clothes afterwards. People don’t dress like they used to, and though he’s discovered a love of blue jeans, he can’t deny the comfort of a flannel shirt tucked into them.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The rest of the day he forces himself to stay put, lounging on the sofa to read his book and work on some drawings. These days, his pages are generally filled with images from the first half of last century: where he used to live with his ma, then where he moved with Bucky; Bucky’s old house and his family; the Howling Commandos, plus a few other faces from the 107</span>
  <span>th</span>
  <span> he remembers; pages and pages of the people he cared most about, Bucky, Peggy, his man, and even a few of doctor Erskine. Steve hadn’t known the doctor for very long, but he still remembers his kind, aged face. It’s one of the first faces he laid eyes on when he stumbled out of Stark’s capsule, his feet suddenly miles below him and his lungs clear for the first time in his life.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He tried to draw himself once, how he used to be. Steve has no photographs of himself before the serum. Any he used to own are long gone, destroyed by time, or perhaps owned by the museum. Steve’s seen the </span>
  <span>exhibit</span>
  <span>, seen the big display where they contrast his old body to his new one while children gawk up at it. It’s odd to be able to walk through his life and not feel a single one of those events he was there for. None of the emotions come through, all of it washed over in fantasy.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Finally, Steve can’t take it anymore. He puts down his sketchbook and paces to the kitchen, pulling open the fridge to mull over what to make tonight. He knows he could pick any country and get a hold of the ingredients for a native dish, but that’s a lot to choose from. Whoever Fury hired to stock his kitchen did a good job picking ingredients he’s mostly familiar with. What about a pie? Steve hasn’t had pie in decades, perhaps even minus the seventy-odd years spent in the ice. Mrs. Barnes made a pie one year for Easter, didn’t she...? And one of Bucky’s sister made one for Christmas a couple of years later. As far as he recalls, that’s the last time he ate one. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Captain America isn’t totally cut off from the modern world, and he isn’t completely </span>
  <span>resistant</span>
  <span> to it. Even though he prefers his phonograph to an iPod, he does have a phone, and a laptop. Though neither see much use, he does know how to work them. He’s figured out harder technology than this, with far more buttons (and certainly more levers), and far more dire consequences if someone went wrong. The benefit of living alone meant he could play around with his computer and learn how it worked on his own without someone hovering over his shoulder – the agent Fury hired to help Steve break into this new world had been kind and helpful, but Steve still likes to learn things on his own, and always felt slightly </span>
  <span>patronized</span>
  <span> by the poor man.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Google knows all. This is the mantra he’s been taught by that agent, and by Fury. Need to know something? Type it into the search bar, and behold: millions upon millions of results in less than a second. Google knows how to make pie. Steve does a quick check of his supplies to make sure he has all the ingredients, and it’s just his luck that he does. In half-an-hour, the pasty is cooling in the fridge, and he’s slicing apples to go into a pot. They aren’t the proper pie apples, but they’ll do.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve takes the apples off the heat and sets the pot on the counter while he rolls out the pastry and slides it into a pan. There’s already flour everywhere, even though he’s being careful. He might need another shower and change of clothes when this is done with. Is the dough thin enough...? Steve’s pretty good at eye-balling measurements, but he’s still unsure if this is right. Oh well, time to find out: he pours the apples into the crust and rolls out another piece of pastry to go on top. He pokes holes in it with a fork and slides it into the oven. There’ll be just enough time for it to be cooked and served before he’s due at Stark Tower.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>There’s a lot of flour to clean up, which keeps him busy while his pie bakes. Steve cleans his kitchen back to perfection, then moves on to the dishes while he waits those last few minutes. This is a bit of an adventure, something he </span>
  <span>always</span>
  <span> considered doing but could never find the motivation for. He hasn’t wanted to do anything too fancy when it’s just him eating it, but maybe Thor will like this. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Or maybe he’ll hate it, who knows. Maybe we’ll </span>
  </em>
  <span>both</span>
  <em>
    <span> hate it.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>It certainly </span>
  <em>
    <span>looks </span>
  </em>
  <span>edible when he pulls it from the oven and sets it on the counter. The crust is golden brown all across the top, and the steam smells good. Steve feels a little sparkle of pride, turning on his heel and marching off to gather Thor. “Dinner, if you want!” he raps lightly on the door and walks back to lay the table.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>When he turns back, Thor is there, peering curiously over the pie.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve slides a knife out of the drawer and stands on the other side of the counter, cutting into the crust. “Ever had apple pie before?” he asks, wondering how high the bar is.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor cocks his head a little. “I think so.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You think so?” Steve tips his head right back, pointing down at the drawers Thor’s standing in front of. “Pass me a spatula? Second drawer.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor pulls it open and picks out one in each hand, a rubber one and a metal one. He nods. “On the farm.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve takes the metal one and slides it under the slice of pie. “The farm? In nineteen-twelve you mean?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor pauses, then nods. “I think.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I guess you didn’t ask the date,” Steve’s mouth twitches into a teasing smile. “Well, this might not live up to that. Never made a pie b – oh no...” the piece drips as he lifts it out, liquid pooling in the pan. Steve quickly deposits the slice into a bowl and stares down at the soggy apple mess drooling between the crust. That crust doesn’t look quite baked through either, drooping a little on the bottom. It’s too thin, and soaked right through with under-boiled filling. Steve prods at a chunk of apple, and it’s way too soft.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor doesn’t seem to care, picking up the bowl before Steve can offer to make him something else and carrying it to the table. Figuring he might as well not waste this, Steve cuts himself a slice and comes to sit down too. The crust is too thin on the bottom and too thick on the top, but at least it’s even. He’s rolled it to perfection. He boiled the apples before-hand though, and should have just cooked the liquid for the sauce, made it thicker. Cinnamon! He never added any cinnamon.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s good.” Thor looks up at him, licking his lips. His tone and expression are sincere.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve blinks at him. “Are you sure? I can make you something else if you want-”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I like it.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>That’s that, then. Steve shakes his head despite his grin as he scoops up some apple mess. “Captain America can’t make an apple pie...” He knows a few people who would laugh at that. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Knew</span>
  </em>
  <span> a few people. That would make Bucky so happy.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor’s got his head cocked again, staring at him with confusion. “Captain... America?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh,” Steve waves his hand. “Just a stupid name they gave me a long time ago.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You are not the Captain of America?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” Steve smiles with a shake of his head. “No, not at all.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I did not think so,” Thor confirms, eating a fork-full of pie.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks...?” This is conversation, laid-back and easy conversation. It’s untainted by ulterior motives or aggression or any sort of business. No-one has anything to gain, or anything to defend. Thor’s actually chatting with him, and it’s a lot different than their most recent proper conversation. This is so far away from that glass cage, and Thor seems very different from the man trapped inside it. Is it presumptuous to think that? Is he getting ahead of himself by enjoying this so much? Probably. But he’s happy, and Thor at least seems okay, so he’ll enjoy this while it’s in front of him.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The pie doesn’t last. Thor eats his piece and sips the liquid out of his bowl. Hurriedly, Steve brings over the pan and offers him some more, and together they finish off this slightly-less-than disastrous pie. There’s liquid dripping all over the table, and the crust is coming apart so badly that Steve abandons the spatula for a serving spoon, but it actually tastes alright. Even if there’s no cinnamon, the apples are more of a sauce, and the top layer of pastry is a bit too soft. Steve plops some ice cream onto their second helpings, which only pushes the pie further toward soup than it already was.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor doesn’t care that it looks awful. There’s no faking the enthusiasm with which he eats, or that his despondence isn’t so tightly woven into his face. His eyes have brightened, and he’s sitting a bit straighter, opening up his posture to Steve. He pours the thick layer of liquid from the pie pan into his bowl and mixes it with the last of his ice cream, drinking down the concoction with a small sigh. Steve decides he’s going to make pie again as soon as he can, and it’s going to be better. </span>
  <span>Never mind</span>
  <span> the image of Captain America – he'll do it for Thor, and pay no mind to anything else. Captain America is going to make the best apple pie there ever was.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>--</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s time to leave, though he doesn’t particularly want to. It’ll be nice to get out of the house and spend some time with friends... but what about Thor? Will he be okay?</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Back in a few hours!” he calls, putting on his jacket and grabbing his keys. Thor retreated to his room once dinner was over. He doesn’t reply. Steve locks the door behind him and climbs on his motorbike. Maybe he should get Thor a phone. Even if the alien never used it, at least Steve would know his roommate would be able to contact him if need-be. Or Steve could text if he was going to be late.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve focuses on the road as he pulls into traffic. Stark Tower isn’t exactly his favorite building, but at least it’s easy to find. The soldier parks on the curb and crosses the street, walking up to the door. He’s about to knock, or say something, but they slide open on their own. “Welcome, Captain Rogers. Mr. Stark is waiting for you,” </span>
  <span>a</span>
  <span> man’s voice greets him. JARVIS.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh, thanks,” Steve says, unsure where to look. The AI doesn’t exactly have a face. He walks into the lobby and glances around, heading for the stairs. Beside it, the doors to the elevator slide open.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Allow me to take you, Captain,” JARVIS offers.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve could sprint to the top of the stairs and barely break a sweat, but he slides in anyway and nods despite not knowing for sure whether or not the computer can pick up on gestures. Everything is very shiny and polished to perfection, made of the most expensive materials. It looks better on the inside, he’ll admit. When he steps out of the elevator, the floor is spacious and luxurious, and populated with his waiting friends.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tony is helping Clint hook up a video game console to the huge TV on the wall, Natasha is rifling through a box of games with a drink in her hand, and Bruce is watching on over his glasses. They all look up as Steve wanders over to the semi-circle of plush couches, and the coffee table at the center covered in take-out food. The soldier gives a little wave and a smile, slipping out of his jacket and draping it over his arm. “Hi guys.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Steve!” Tony hops up and checks his watch. “Right on time, practically to the second. Come on, have some food.” The inventor ushers Steve over to the spread while Natasha shuffles over and pats the spot beside her.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I see you’re still alive, then,” she looks him over as he sits. “How’s it going?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve </span>
  <span>chuckles</span>
  <span> and scratches his head, laying his jacket over the sofa arm. “Pretty good. He’s quiet, but he eats dinner with me. Mostly he keeps to himself.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Plotting, I suspect,” Tony add knowingly.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve shakes his head. “Maybe.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Probably.” Tony corrects, shoving a plate into the soldier’s grip. “Most definitely.” He dumps four slices of pizza onto it and a handful of chicken wings.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve supposes the inventor might be right, as much as he wants to savor the little </span>
  <span>moments</span>
  <span> he and Thor have shared these past couple of days. He decides not to tell his friends about the pie, or the nightmares. “We built some furniture yesterday,” he says instead. “It was kinda nice.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <span>Sure</span>
  <span> you weren’t having a fever dream?” Tony replies. “You trusted him with tools?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He could kill me just as easily with his bare hands as he could with a screw driver,” Steve replies evenly.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bruce nudges his glasses up his nose and dishes himself out some rice and vegetables. “Given that he tried to strangle Steve to death less than a week ago, I’d say this is progress.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve nods in agreement. They still don’t know anything about Thanos, but it’s still progress. Little steps. Right now, as far as they know, there’s no time pressure; Thanos might be coming, but all the mind-controlled agents are safe, and Bruce has the tesseract up in his lab here at the tower. “Finding anything with the cube?” he asks the scientist.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Only that it emits more power than we could use,” Bruce explains, glancing at Tony. “And that we need to be careful.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve could have told them that. He nods wisely, remembering vividly how it sucked the Red Skull right out of the air, tearing him away from Earth and throwing him into the stars. “So... no danger of anyone else coming through a portal, then.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not as far as we can tell,” Bruce explains. “We’ve done our best to seal it off from outside tampering, but we don’t understand it well enough to know if we actually eliminated the possibility.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t understand it </span>
  <em>
    <span>yet</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Tony corrects with a raised finger, flopping into an arm chair near Bruce and dragging some pizza onto a plate. “Either way, if things do go wrong, JARVIS has been instructed to initiate lockdown procedures. Anything manages to crawl its way to Earth, and the place will be teeming with SHIELD agents.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Surprised you’d trust them, Stark,” Clint tosses a controller to the inventor and keeps another to himself, sitting on the floor with his back against the couch by Natasha. “Thought you were against all their policies and crap.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not saying my own defense mechanisms wouldn’t kick in first,” Tony adds quickly. “But when it comes to alien entities? I’d rather have SHIELD ship them off and deal with them than have that on my hands. I’ve got enough projects of my own.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What about Thor?” Steve asks.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That guy’s the </span>
  <span>exception</span>
  <span>,” Tony corrects with a wave of his hand. “Don’t look so worried, Cap. I’m still up for lending a hand for your new pal.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Relieved, Steve wipes away the frown he hadn’t even realized had worked its way onto his face.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The team chats over a mildly competitive game of Mario Kart, swapping controllers between the five of them and eating when it’s not their turn to play. Steve tells everything he can about his success with Thor, but they already know the soldier’s new roommate is scared and not very talkative. Again, Steve keeps Thor’s panic-attack-slash-nightmare to himself, inexplicably protective of that personal detail. He doesn’t tell his friends about his own anxiety-induced nightmares either.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>When it’s his turn to play, he wipes his fingers clean and sits squarely to the TV just like he saw the others do. A couple of rounds observing his friends has already shown him a lot. They’re trying to give him pointers, but he’s already noticed that when the number ‘2’ of the countdown appears on-screen, the others press the drive button. He’s figured out how to throw bananas in the first race when Clint was throwing them forward and back. He knows to drive through the magic glowing cubes for items.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>All of these characters are odd-looking and irrelevant to anything he’s familiar with, so he selects the mushroom with a face – it makes about as much sense as anything, but it is cute. Steve strategically selects a more stable, heavier car with good handling. Some of the tracks slow you down when you drive off the road, so he picks something with a high off-road rating. Tony picks Bowser and a bike with huge exhaust pipes coming out the back, and hands his controller to Bruce to pick the race.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Clint reaches over and snatches away the controller, flicking through the options and picking Bowser’s Castle with a cackle. He tosses the remote back to Tony.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Clint!” Natasha exclaims.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What! Throw him in at the deep-end!” Clint replies. “It’ll be more fun this way.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve doesn’t really know what everyone’s on about, though the little intro </span>
  <span>clip</span>
  <span> the game plays to show off the course does foreshadow a large Bowser shooting fire balls into the course, so maybe this one of the harder races. It’s one none of them have picked yet either, so he hasn’t had a chance to watch and see what he can expect.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>That’s alright. Captain America is good at learning on the fly. When the countdown hits two, he’s already pressing the accelerator before Nat has a chance to advise him to. A second more, and they’re off.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Immediately, he’s bombarded with colors, movements, and sound. He filters everything he doesn’t need, nudging aside the beeping of digital cars and the strange catchphrases they yell at each other as they change places. The first obstacle is a jump, and he shakes the remote as he takes it just like he saw the others do. When he lands, his car enjoys a small burst of speed, and he glides up to 11</span>
  <span>th</span>
  <span> place. Neatly, he breaks a floaty box and takes the next corner with a flick of his wrist.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He gets a triad of red shells. These ones track another player ahead or behind, depending which way you throw them. If he recalls correctly, of course. Which he does. The serum hasn’t let him forget. He fires off the first, then the second, then finally the third and climbs another three places.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tony is already in first, and gaining distance with confidence, yelling triumphantly as he just misses the angry grey rock thing that would have crushed him. Steve overtakes another couple of players, hanging at a comfortable but unsatisfactory 6</span>
  <span>th</span>
  <span> place. It wouldn’t be a shameful score to end on, but it’s just not good enough for him. He collects another box, waiting patiently for what it will give him. One banana is unlucky, so he hangs on to it for a second or two just in case, as he calmly navigates a few twists and turns, bursting out into a long stretch where the massive flame-spitting Bowser awaits. Steve launches across the gap and down to the lower platform, keeping to the sides and away from the fireballs bouncing at predictable intervals down the center. He’s keeping a good pace, but a frantic beeping alerts him to danger from behind – a red shell is about to disrupt his momentum. It was wise to hang onto that banana: Steve drops it behind him, and it destroys the shell before it can hit him.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wow, Steve...” Clint murmurs, and Steve fights back his grin, pretending to ignore the archer as he focuses hard on driving up these steep walls, past Bowser’s rearing head, and down one of the corridors to one side. He darts around the spinning fireballs, and continues back into the stone-walled passageways.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He takes a sharp corner, and suddenly there’s a crackling red cube in front of him – those are bad, that he knows. “Left you a present, Cap!” Tony cackles, but Steve is already wrenching his car to the side. His instincts and reactions are impeccable, but can the car keep up? Will the computer interpret the signal well enough to execute that dodge?</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>It does, and Steve evades the item by the skin of his little mushroom teeth. One of the NPCs starts to boost past him but hits the fake item cube instead, and Steve carries on unscathed. This time, he can’t help a little smirk as he darts around pillars of lava shooting up across the last stretch to the finish line.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s not over yet: there are two more laps to go. Steve only firms his resolve, determined to win this. He’s gaining on Tony now, in second place and starting to close the gap.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tony hurls a banana behind him before flying over the first jump, and Steve catches it, spinning over the jump and drowning in lava with a little gurgle. “Gotcha!” Tony howls with delight, Bowser doing a triumphant little fist-bump.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come on, Steve!” Natasha cheers.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>There’s nothing he can do while a turtle on a cloud drops him back on the course with a fishing rod. Steve quickly starts to drive again, but he’s already lost quite a few places and fallen back to 7</span>
  <span>th</span>
  <span>. Unluckily, someone throws a shell before he can gather momentum again, and it strikes him squarely in the bumper. Two more people overtake his car, then a bullet flies past and knocks him straight back into the lava. When he emerges again, he’s back to 12</span>
  <span>th</span>
  <span>.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The second lap has hardly begun, and Tony’s not getting away with this. Steve wills his car to accelerate faster, driving through the first item box he can and praying for something good. Unlucky again: it’s only given him that same batch of three red shells. Steve supposes he’d rather win like this than by using the bullet thing. In good spirits, he hurls the shells forward, gathering another item while he’s at it. This time, it gives him a golden mushroom, which he’s already seen Natasha use in the last game. This one will continuously give him speed boosts for a set period of time. Steve waits for a good moment, ignoring his friends’ cheers that he use it. Instead, he waits until he sees the fireball-hacking Bowser, and the first fireball that flies his way. The pattern is simple – Steve's already memorized it. He counts, then uses his boost, mashing the button as fast as he can. He streams down the middle of the platform, over the little jump right as the next fireball sails safely over his head, through the mud unhindered, and off to the left down the corridor with the spinning fireballs.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The mushroom vanishes, and he’s all the way back up to 6</span>
  <span>th</span>
  <span> place. Steve skids around the next few corners and rolls into lap 3. The music has already increased in pace since Tony crossed; the inventor is way ahead according to the map in the corner. Steve’s going to have to be efficient with his corners if he wants to catch up. After two laps though, he’s already got the hang of the course. He knows what’s coming, and the best way to get through everything that’s to come.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>First, the jump over the lava and into the castle where he’s first met with the wobbly floor. Steve drives across it and hits every power box he can so the people behind him will have less chance of collecting </span>
  <span>an</span>
  <span> item that can be used against him. He gains a red shell, and fires it, overtaking a gangly man in purple who yells </span>
  <em>
    <span>Myaagh</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>!</span>
  </em>
  <span> at him for stealing </span>
  <span>5</span>
  <span>th</span>
  <span>.</span>
  <span> Feeling no guilt whatsoever, Steve carries on, gathering more items as fast as he can. He takes a corner tightly, avoiding the drop into lava, and takes the jump down to where Bowser is awaiting him with fire. Steve gets three mushrooms, and uses them to get through the mud and dodge the fireballs as they bounce. A green dinosaur-thing isn’t so lucky, taking that huge fireball in the face and sizzling with a warbling cry of pain. Toad’s face remains affixed to the road ahead, well used to seeing comrades burn to death. There is no compassion in his eyes as he turns to celebrate that he hit someone with his banana.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Something beeps from behind, and Steve hurriedly turns into an item box and hopes for a banana or a shell that will save him from taking a hit. Instead, the game warns him of an approaching blue shell, which he knows will sail safely over his head and straight into Tony. Sure enough, it whistles over him, and he smiles to himself. He’s in 3</span>
  <span>rd</span>
  <span>.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“NO!” Tony yells. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Noooo</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve bumps past a baby in a motorized stroller, knocking her heartlessly aside in his heavier car, claiming 2</span>
  <span>nd</span>
  <span>.  Tony is just up ahead, halfway through the lava pillars, the shell diving down on top of him in an explosion of blue. Steve wills his car to drive faster and catch up, but he’s too far away. He’s not going to make it.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s got a green shell waiting to be used. Steve lines up his car behind Tony’s as the inventor recovers from the blast and starts driving again. He’s got one shot at this. Steve waits for the pillars of lava to drop, aims, and shoots. The shell flies true, striking the back of Tony’s bike as Steve darts around the lava. He jumps over one of the mounds of dirt and shakes for the boost, whizzing across the finish line before Tony can catch up. Toad hops out of his seat and does a victory cheer as the car drives by itself. He’s won, and Tony’s just a second behind.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve hands the controller back to Nat and calmly picks up his plate again, shoving pizza into his mouth to hide his grin.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll get you a beer,” Clint nods dumbstruck at Steve, standing up and patting a devastated Tony on the shoulder.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>--</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve learns a lot about this friends that night. He learns that all of them have a competitive streak of various thicknesses. Except for Bruce, maybe.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve can tell he’s earned their respect for his win against Tony, maybe more for that than anything else. He’s surprised them a little too, and he likes that. It fills him with pride that he figured out their game, and that they didn’t think he would. Not that fast, at least.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Knew you’d beat him,” Natasha nudges his arm and quietly hands him a beer while they watch Tony and Clint go at it again. The food is almost gone and it’s dark outside, but they’re having too much fun to call it quits. Even Steve is enjoying himself, though the conversation goes over his head sometimes, when Bruce and Tony talk about science, or Clint joins in to talk about pop-culture. Natasha’s been a constant at his side. “Saw you watching them.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Beginner’s luck,” Steve smiles humbly and raises his hands, taking the beer from her. “I’m not sure I could do it again.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Bet you could,” Natasha nods toward the TV.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Better to quit while I’m ahead,” Steve chuckles. “Besides. I’m having fun watching.” And listening. He likes to sit back and listen to people just talk. You can learn a lot about someone that way.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay old man,” she says, pushing the tub of ice cream toward him. “But at least have some desert. Or are you not supposed to have sugar too close to bedtime?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ha </span>
  <span>ha</span>
  <span>,” Steve replies with a smirk, scooping out a good-sized dollop into his bowl. He puts his ice cream in his lap and leans back, taking a swig of beer and enjoying his friends nudging and yelling through the last lap of the race. He’s here having a good time, while Thor is by himself. Alone.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor might like that. A night on his own might be Thor’s idea of a perfect evening, but it still makes Steve’s heart coil up painfully. A few more races later, he’s finished his desert, and his beer is empty.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I should go,” he stands up and gathers his jacket when the latest race is over. “Thanks for having me. I had fun.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You don’t have to leave,” Clint looks up. “Unless you got a curfew. Nobody’ll </span>
  <span>tell</span>
  <span> on you if Captain America stays up past ten.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve smiles bashfully. “I know. I should really get back though. Just in case...”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sure he’s fine,” Tony waves a hand. “One more race, </span>
  <span>Capscicle</span>
  <span>, cummon.” He offers up his controller. “Kick Barton’s ass.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Next time,” Steve says remorsefully as he puts on his jacket. “Promise.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll hold you to that, Spangles,” Tony jabs a finger at him. “See ya.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Drive safe,” Bruce offers up, giving a little wave.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“See you tomorrow morning?” Natasha looks up too.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve nods, waves back to the others, and escapes into the elevator. That was fun, but he needs to get home and make sure Thor’s alright. He’s been out far longer than he meant to – it's almost 10 pm. Steve takes the fastest route he knows, glad that traffic is at least a little lighter than usual. Night life is still bustling though, still bright and lively and loud. Steve longs to wrap a pillow around his head and enjoy some quiet for his sensitive ears. Mario Kart is fun, but it bullied his ear drums. Next time he’ll ask someone to turn down the volume, though he knows the yelling will still be a problem.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>His apartment isn’t silent, but it’s better. A lot of elderly people live here, so there’s not much activity after nine. No banging, no parties, no roaring engines. Sometimes Steve snorts to himself at how much he fits in here, that he might actually be the oldest person in the building. Sometimes he wonders if any of them fought in the second world war, if he might have met them. They probably know who Captain America is. Everyone does. While young people know his face, older people have been touched by him in one way or another, directly or indirectly. A lot of the men Steve rescued from the 107</span>
  <span>th</span>
  <span> unit, and at other times during the war, went on to have families. Has he met relatives of friends of the past? Grandchildren, great-grandchildren? Maybe one of the teenagers who works as a cashier at the supermarket, or someone he’s bumped into on the subway. Any one of the hundreds of people he sees on the streets every day. Steve knows if he asked Fury, the direction could probably track down every branch spreading out from Steve’s small pool of friends from 1945.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve sighs and shuts the door behind him, taking off his shoes, hanging up his coat and keys, and going to the kitchen for some water. The dishes are done. They’ve all been washed and neatly arranged in the drying rack. Everything has already air-dried, so it must have been a couple of hours since Thor washed them. Steve puts them away quietly and slumps off to bed. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He strips and dumps his clothes into the laundry basket, crawling into bed, wrapping himself up in his blankets and dragging over his book. He reads until he can’t keep his eyes open anymore, and drops off to sleep.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>--</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>This time, he manages not to dream. Thor is absent from the doorway in the morning, and Steve hopes the alien got his sleep too. He leaves another note, eats a light breakfast, and heads off for his run before training.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Natasha meets him at the SHIELD gym as scheduled, and they launch straight into training. “So. Thought any more about Fury’s offer?” the spy asks as she takes her stance beside him.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve frowns, following her direction. They start to move across the gym in sync, like a dance. “Not sure if it’s a good idea to leave Thor by himself for so long. I think I want to join, though.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You think?” Natasha </span>
  <span>challenges</span>
  <span>.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve shrugs and mirrors her slow, balanced kick. This is only the second time they’ve done this warm-up routine since she taught it to him last session, and he’s already memorized it. It’s about teaching his body precision and balance and technique, all of which the serum is naturally good at. Enhanced at it is though, the body can always learn. Learn it does: in no time at all, his muscles have absorbed these patterns. “I’m really not sure,” he sighs. “If you asked me genuinely what I wanted, I’m not sure I could tell you.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you want to be here?” it’s an honest question, non-accusatory and purely curious.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>They complete the pattern, and Steve swivels on his foot to face her. “Yeah, I do,” he smiles honestly. “I really appreciate your help.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can’t tell you what you should do,” Natasha steps backward onto the mats, inviting him to follow her. “All I can say, is don’t do anything because you think it’s what other people want. Don’t join because Fury wants you to. Do it for you.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>That’s simple enough. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I can do that.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Right now, he wants to train and learn, and the spy gladly obliges.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve drives home sweaty but happy. He jumps right in the shower and changes into some clean clothes, coming out to make lunch. Right on schedule, Thor emerges to join him. His hair is neatly brushed and tied back as usual, and looks like he’s had a shower too. Steve smiles as he turns on the stove. “Hey. How are you?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright.” Another quiet but honest answer. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I was uh, thinking,” Steve starts, taking out a fresh carton of eggs and leaning back against the counter by the stove so he can face Thor. “Um... of taking a job. Might mean I’d be gone for a few days at a time every now and then. Wondered what you’d think of that.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor gives no opinion, looking down at the table.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t need the money, so it’s alright i</span>
  <span>f you don’t want me to,” Steve encourages. “And if you don’t want to be by yourself, I’m sure Tony would let you stay at the tower while I’m gone. I’d make sure the fridge was full before I left, so you wouldn’t run out of food. I can get you some more books, too. Anything you want.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The alien nods a little to himself and fights his head to lift. “Do what you must do.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t </span>
  <span>gotta</span>
  <span> do anything,” Steve smiles. “Nothin’. Just don’t want you to be alone, that’s all.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor looks away again. “It’s fine,” he mutters.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Clearly not. “I’ll figure something out,” he promises. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>They eat their lunch quietly while Steve thinks about what to make for dinner. He has an idea.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Figured I’d try to make that pie again tonight... you wanna help?” Thor perks up a bit at that, doing his little head-tip thing when he’s interested but can’t seem to express it verbally. Steve smiles. “I’ll go to the store and buy some more apples, then. Want to come? It’s not far.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor stands up.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>--</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor walks to the grocery store with Steve and doesn’t say a word. He follows along obediently, curiously inspecting this and that while Steve stocks up on tart green apples. The soldier adds a few other things to carry back too, some more flour and a pineapple – he caught Thor poking at the tall green crown of fronds on top and </span>
  <span>surreptitiously</span>
  <span> nudged it into his basket when the alien wasn’t looking. They end up buying more than Steve expected, but neither of them </span>
  <span>struggles</span>
  <span> to carry one reusable bag each.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Back home, Steve gives Thor the apples to chop, offering him a knife hilt-first. The alien stares at the blade and cautiously takes it, glancing up at Steve as if to confirm that it really is okay to have it.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How big?” he asks.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Chunks,” Steve instructs, holding up his fingers to show the thickness.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor nods, turns the blade in his hand with deadly precision, and gets cutting. Steve forces himself to get back to his own task instead of watching – he was right about Thor’s knife skills though. The guy is taking apart those apples like a jigsaw puzzle, every piece evenly-sized.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>A few minutes later, Steve puts the crust in the fridge and slides Thor’s bowl of immaculately chopped apples along with it. Then he hands over a pot and some measuring cups, holding up the laptop.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor squints at the recipe, diligently measuring out water, sugar, flour, cinnamon, and some lemon juice into the pot. He moves it to the stove to cook, and Steve sits back to watch his roommate standing rigid over his mixture, stirring with a wooden spoon at a consistent speed.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can do that, if you want,” Steve offers.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor shakes his head and keeps stirring, so Steve leaves him alone. In a few minutes, the sauce is finished. Thor takes it off the heat and stares at the bubbling liquid while Steve pulls out the chilled crust. Steve rolls his pastry more evenly this time, making the top and bottom pieces the same thickness, meeting in the middle from the previous attempt. He slides the first piece into the tray and tips the apples into it, moving away so Thor can pour the sauce in next. Steve trims the edge of the pastry and carefully lays the next piece over top. It goes in the oven, and all they can do now is wait.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor goes to stand in front of the oven, crouching down and peering at the pie through the little glass window. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <span>Wanna</span>
  <span> play cards or something?” Steve offers. “I think I have a pack.” Strangely enough. Hard to play cards with yourself, unless it’s solitaire. He doesn’t really like solitaire.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor looks up over his shoulder, his head </span>
  <span>flopping</span>
  <span> to one side.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Card games. Ever played one?” Steve smiles and backs toward the table. “It’s fun. I’ll teach you a few, and you can decide which one you prefer.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor stands up and comes to sit with him at the table. Steve deals.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>--</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The second pie is a lot more </span>
  <span>successful.</span>
  <span> It finishes in the middle of a card game, so they pause to get it out, Thor hovering by the counter with anticipation. It looks amazing. Steve bites his lip as he slices through the top layer of pastry, down into the apples, then through the bottom. He winces and he slides the first piece into a bowl.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>It holds together. The apples aren’t a mess this time, the pastry is thick enough to hold the filling, and cooked through properly. Thor plucks the ice cream from the freezer and sets the tub on the counter. Steve grins, and he gets back the smallest smile in the world.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s a smile though, barely imperceptible from Thor usually neutral gaze. His thick bottom lip is tighter, pulled on from the corners. The faintest shimmer of brightness in his </span>
  <span>eyes</span>
  <span> dazzles Steve. The soldier’s arm moves on its own, handing over the bowl and spoon. They play some more cards, mostly in silence, and accompanied by pie. It’s a gorgeous pie, and an </span>
  <span>enjoyable</span>
  <span>, peaceful evening.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>--</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>What is he supposed to do? He can’t leave Thor all alone while he runs off to work. Steve does want to work, though. It’s what he was made for. He needs to get out of this house, out of his little world. Strange as it sounds though, he’s finally got someone to share it with. Thor might not say much, or do much, but he’s part of Steve’s life now, and Steve can’t make decisions like these without considering him. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Throughout the week, Thor spends a little more time with Steve out in the living room, or in the kitchen cooking. Steve tries to get the alien involved any way he can, usually giving him some ingredients to chop. </span>
  <span>Admittedly</span>
  <span>, he enjoys watching Thor skillfully take apart anything he’s given with whatever knife Steve hands him. Whoever trained him, trained him well, and Thor’s own natural hand-eye coordination on top of that results in something frighteningly beautiful.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor hasn’t said another word about what happened to him, about Thanos, or about much of anything. He expresses opinions mostly with a small head motion, sometimes with a word or two. It’s as if he’s fallen into a rhythm he doesn’t know to break; his lips will often start to part and his throat will jump in preparation to speak, but the alien rarely does. He seems less afraid, at the very least, and less haggard. Steve’s been sleeping a little better this past week too. The presence of someone just down the hall, and the lingering warmth of what Thor did for him must be keeping the worst of his nightmares at bay. Just last yesterday, he slept through his first night in months. He knows it won’t last, but it’s a nice change.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Team meeting night rolls around again, and Steve’s hesitant to go. Not because he doesn’t like his new friends, or want to spend time with them, but because he’s been really enjoying these quiet evenings with Thor. And Thor keeps coming out to spend them with him, so he hopes the alien enjoys them too.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>An idea strikes him as he’s getting ready to go. Steve pauses at the door and takes off his shoes, walking back down the hall toward Thor’s room. He knocks on the door. “</span>
  <span>Thor..?</span>
  <span>”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>His roommate opens it, peering at him curiously.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I uh...” Steve straightens his jacket. “You </span>
  <span>wanna</span>
  <span> come? No pressure, if you don’t want to. We just hang out and plays games. Oh, and there’s food, too. Lots of food.” They’ve already eaten, but both of them could easily put away more. Has Thor ever had a New York pizza? Or a pizza, ever? “You don’t have to, just wondering-”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay.” Thor blinks down at him. Sometimes Steve forgets that Thor is taller than him. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve almost forgets to answer. “Okay.” He smiles back. “Let’s go, then.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor gets his shoes and pulls a sweater over his shirt. He likes to layer up, Steve’s noticed, even though the soldier has turned the heat up a little. It seems to be more for security in layers than for warmth. They get outside, and Steve realizes that Thor’s going to have to slide onto his bike and hold on.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We can get a cab,” he offers, looking up. “I don’t mind, but we’ll be right up close...” So far, Steve’s held back from making contact, or even sitting too close.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor examines the bike, taking in the length of the seat and visibly imagining how close they’ll be. He looks back over, a shade paler. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What did Thanos do to you...</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Cab?” Steve frowns, and Thor nods. “Okay, no problem.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The cab comes in a few minutes, and they slide into the back with a safe seat between them. They </span>
  <span>could</span>
  <span> have walked, but Steve doesn’t want to be late. With good old New York taxi-driving, they’re right on time. Steve pays and turns to find Thor staring up at the building.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s safe,” Steve assures. He hopes the others won’t mind too much. He hopes this is okay... To his relief, Thor follows him inside, noticeably on edge. “We can go home,” the soldier offers as JARVIS lets them into the lobby, then the elevator.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor pauses and steels himself, straightening and shaking his head.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Kick me if you want to go,” Steve offers while they’re safe in the elevator. “Just... nudge my foot. I’ll get you home fast as I can.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor looks at his feet, but he nods bravely. When the doors open, he straightens again and </span>
  <span>follows</span>
  <span> Steve out with confident strides.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey Steve – what?” Clint notices immediately, looking up to greet them and promptly freezing changing the batteries in the controllers. “Uh... hey there.” The others </span>
  <span>look</span>
  <span> up, and Steve feels a </span>
  <span>prickle</span>
  <span> up his spine and a twist of regret in his gut.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey,” he smiles bashfully. “I uh, brought a friend.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>For a moment, he wonders if everything is going to explode: Thor is staring down the others, and they’re staring him down too. But Natasha stands up and smiles, shifting to the adjacent couch beside Clint and leaving the other one empty. “Come sit,” she invites, glancing pointedly at the others.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve takes a seat and leaves the other half of the couch for Thor, who sits stiffly and darts his eyes around the room, </span>
  <span>cataloging</span>
  <span> occupants, furniture, and exits. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What have I </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>done...</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Here,” Bruce passes around plates, handing one to Thor as well.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve makes sure his feet are easy to reach as he picks up a box of pizza and slides a few slices onto his plate, holding it out for Thor to take some too. To his mild surprise, Thor settles a little, taking the box from Steve’s hands and sliding some pizza onto his plate. He sits up to return it to the table, and when he sits back </span>
  <span>down,</span>
  <span> he’s an inch closer.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>To their credit, the others do their best not to make a fuss, or even pay Thor much attention, which is good. The initial shock and awkwardness fades, discussion is completely forgotten, and they jump straight into games. Steve takes it upon himself to make sure Thor has plenty to eat and drink, resisting the urge to continuously check if the alien is alright. The soldier will just have to trust Thor to use the agreed-upon foot-nudge if he needs to leave.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Unsurprisingly, Thor is silent. When Steve glances over though, he’s watching the screen intently, following every detail as Tony and Clint face off. Predictably, the controller is soon passed up to Steve, Tony’s grin wickedly curved. “Said you’d kick Clint’s ass, Cap.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>That he did. Steve smiles and puts aside his plate, reaching for the controller. They’re still working through this set of races, so Steve’s left to drive what Natasha picked when they started; the little green dinosaur riding a dirt bike.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Clint cackles as he picks a race. “Oh, Cap. I’m </span>
  <span>gonna</span>
  <span> destroy you.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’ll see,” Steve calmly awaits his fate, knowing deep in his bones that the archer won’t go easy on him, and fairly so; Steve has to prove that last week’s win wasn’t beginner’s luck.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Of course</span>
  <span> he remembers everything from last race, and this time it’s a course he’s seen before: Rainbow Road. The colors are sparkling, and the corners tight. It’s a tough track. That only solidifies his resolve. The race kicks off, and he pays close attention to how his new vehicle handles.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s different than the car he drove last time, can take sharper turns, but is a lot lighter. It’s a bit faster, too, zipping between other players as everyone gets going. That weight might be a problem though, because unlike last time, he goes flying when someone else in a heavier car knocks into the back of him. He drops off the edge, and immediately finds himself back in 12</span>
  <span>th</span>
  <span>.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Clint’s a good driver. He’s got sharp eyes and off-the-charts hand-eye-coordination. He’ll be as tough as Tony to beat. The spread of drivers quickly increases as the race progresses, which Steve can see on the little map in the corner.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>His first item is a speed boost, which he wisely saves for a straight bit. The next turn he enters a bit too fast, and though his reflexes are fine, the car doesn’t respond and flies right off into space. Those couple of places he gained are lost just as quickly, and he’s fallen a long way behind the others. His next item is the bullet thing though, which speeds him on auto-pilot, catching him up to the others and throwing aside anyone in the way. When it lets go, he’s been shot into 9</span>
  <span>th</span>
  <span>, while Clint carries on into 1</span>
  <span>st</span>
  <span>.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>His friends are cheering, Tony begging Clint to be careful and not lose this, and Natasha encouraging Steve with a bit more reserve. Even Bruce joins in with little remarks that barely make it over the chaotic noise constantly streaming from the game itself. Steve takes a sharp turn and his back wheel comes off the track as he does, but he makes it through, and to his left he hears Thor murmur a ‘yes!’ that’s only for Steve’s ears. He affords himself a smile, and keeps going. Even if he’ll be </span>
  <span>disappointed</span>
  <span> with anything less than first, it already feels worth it.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>In the end, he manages another win. Luck is most definitely on his side, but he doesn’t mind, because it’s all worth the collective looks on his friends’ faces. Tony sighs in defeat and dramatically proclaims that they need some more food to make them feel better, and that Steve deserves some as a reward. Bruce knowingly adjusts his glasses, and Natasha gives him a proud smile while Clint throws up his hands in defeat and proclaims something about how unfair it is playing a super-soldier.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve smiles too, and when he looks over at Thor, he spots another of those faint smiles on the alien’s lips. Thor looks up and catches his gaze, and though it’s subtle, his roommate definitely looks proud. “Want a go?” Steve offers the controller, but Thor shakes his head and quickly busies his hands with the ice-cream Tony passes around.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Well, maybe another day. This is a good start.</span>
  
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Chapter 12</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Some <a href="https://stormyandrescuer.tumblr.com/post/619208341759131648/thor-comes-to-look-after-his-boi-post-catws-iv">happier thundershield</a> to enjoy before we get back into this sad, angsty suff.</p>
<p>As always, enjoy! This chapter includes the aftermath of last chapter's rape scene. Nothing graphic, just feels.<br/>And as always, thank you for your feedback &lt;3 I always enjoy and appreciate it. Stay safe y'all!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“You aren’t from here, are you.” Thor looks up as they walk home. It’s been nagging him for a while now, but try as he might, he can’t put the pieces together himself. The building mystery is enough to overcome his difficulty speaking, though it helps that they’re alone now.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve chuckles ruefully, putting his hands in his pockets and looking up at the stars. “That’s one way of putting it.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They treat you differently.” They call him things like ‘Cap’ and ‘</span>
  <span>Capscicle</span>
  <span>’ and ‘Old Man’. That last one is particularly confusing, given that Steve looks younger than the rest of them. Then again, Thor looks younger too and he knows he’s older than all of them combined.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Long story,” Steve shrugs. His gait changes a little, and his posture shifts. “You know how I said I was Captain America? And that I’m stronger than they are because of the serum – the spell?” Thor nods. “Well, it all has to do with that.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>It doesn’t look like a fun story to tell. Thor feels a frown pull at his face and his mouth open to offer that Steve doesn’t have to share it, but the Captain is already speaking.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you know what year it is?” Steve asks, and Thor shakes his head. “It’s twenty-twelve. I was born in nineteen-eighteen.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Not long to an Asgardian, but long for a human – Steve is almost a hundred years old, even though he looks like a young adult. Thor tips his head and watches Steve very carefully. He sees that old sorrow resurfacing, washing away all the mirth from this evening, and </span>
  <span>cleansing</span>
  <span> even the steady joy the soldier expressed this past week.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Someone gave me the serum back then, and it made me strong,” Steve explains. “I don’t get sick, I heal real fast, and poison doesn’t work on me. We were at war, so I fought. This guy called Shmidt, he... he was </span>
  <span>gonna</span>
  <span> blow up every major city in the world. I stopped him and flew his plane, but there was only one way to stop those missiles from firing. I flew it into an ice shelf in the Arctic. That was nineteen-forty-five.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But you did not die.” Clearly not, somehow. “Your serum kept you alive.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Took them sixty-six years to find me, but yeah,” Steve huffs humorlessly. “Woke up a few months ago.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>A few months ago, Steve crashed a plane. “Did you know you would live?” Softness creeps into his voice. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I must know. I must know so I can escape. That is all. Learn the enemy. Information is a powerful weapon.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve shakes his head. “Thought I’d die. Sometimes I wonder if I did, and this is all a crazy dream.” He huffs again, but it’s just as dry.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>A few months ago, Steve died, and came back. He came back to a different world. Thor remembers what Earth was like in 1912. Sure, there might be farm country out there that more closely resembles what he experienced, but the world’s definitely come a long way since Steve remembers it.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry, didn’t mean to bring the mood down,” Steve looks up with a forlorn smile, trying to perk up a bit.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor shakes his head a little and looks away. It explains the phonograph, at least, and some of the names the soldier’s friends call him.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <span>Shoulda</span>
  <span> warned you they were so loud,” Steve’s saying, trying to change the topic. He winces and rubs his ears. “Super hearing is pretty handy, but everything has its drawbacks... You okay? There was a lot of yelling.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor shrugs. He won’t deny that some members of Steve’s group are raucous, but it’s reignited a flame inside his chest that’s been extinguished for a hundred years. The other Children don’t play like that, don’t tease and laugh like these people do. At least not when Thor’s around. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I did not go to make friends. I entered the enemy’s lair for information.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe we should order pizza one night,” Steve’s suggesting. “Or we could try to make it, if you’re not sick of my cooking.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Without thinking, Thor shakes his head – no, never. Steve’s not that bad of a cook. So far, Thor’s enjoyed every single meal prepared for him, especially those apple pies.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Tomorrow, then?” Steve suggests.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor nods, and he can’t help another little smile, even though he’s worn out. As much as it was overwhelming to spend time with people so different to what he’s grown used to, he doesn’t mind Steve’s company at his side. A long time ago, he knows he used to be more like Steve’s friends. Louder, even. Drinking, eating, laughing, telling stories. Usually stories about battle. He recalls one of </span>
  <span>Volstagg’s</span>
  <span> favorite tales, told at a long table covered in food and surrounded by friends. He remembers the bite of Asgardian liquor and the grasp of friendly hands. Those are distant memories, ones that feel almost like a dream. He’s not sure he’d want those touches now even if he could have them.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Luckily, Steve always gives him his personal space, never reaching in unless to offer an object. Thor doesn’t feel like he needs to shy away and protect himself. Not from Steve. </span>
  <span>Thanos</span>
  <span> has taught him to trust slowly, so Thor is still vigilant of the soldier. There are some things he knows he can trust Steve with, though; they’re going inside, and soon they’ll be in bed – Thor can trust Steve enough to sleep deeply around him. It’s easy now, to fall asleep at night. Easier than before, at least.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Want some coffee?” Steve offers as they get inside. He goes straight to the kitchen to start a pot.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes please.” Thor pulls off his shoes and neatly arranges them beside Steve’s. He likes coffee a lot. It’s something </span>
  <span>Thanos</span>
  <span> never had. Then again, neither did </span>
  <span>Asgard</span>
  <span>. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The pot brews and Steve hands over a full mug before sitting with his own, glancing up but trying not to. The soldier can never hide how he’s feeling, and Thor sometimes wonders if he’s telepathic with how well he can hear Steve’s thoughts sometimes, just by looking at his face. As much as Steve seems to hang around for Thor’s sake, the soldier seems to like the company just as much. Thor wonders how long he’s lived here by himself. Since he woke up a few months ago, he assumes. A few months by himself, with no-one to talk to. At least Thor had the other Children and Thanos to talk to now and then, though conversation is different with them. It’s never friendly and menial. They don’t ask how he is, and they don’t care for his preferences in anything.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>That’s why it’s hard to answer when Steve asks him how he is, just like he’s asking now: “You okay?” The soldier always asks with slightly upturned eyebrows, concerned and willing to listen, ready to do help if he can, as he does. It comes naturally to the soldier.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor doesn’t give his own state much thought these days, and even if he does, there’s been no-one to express that to. Not even </span>
  <span>Thanos</span>
  <span>. </span>
  <span>Thanos</span>
  <span> looks after him, but he doesn’t ask those sorts of questions. Thor rubs the warm mug in his hands and nods, tearing his stare away from the rippling liquid so he can look into Steve’s eyes instead. That little frown is back. Steve doesn’t hold grudges, acting as if he’s forgotten that Thor threatened to kill him, and very nearly did. Thor gives a small nod in reply, and they drink in silence for a few more minutes.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think I’m gonna take Fury’s offer.” Steve has a sip of coffee and looks down guiltily, though he has no need to be. He looks back up with a bashful smile. “That’s what the serum’s for... Not right for me to sit around all day while other people fight and get hurt.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>People fight, and they get hurt. Surely Steve doesn’t think he can stop all of that. </span>
  <span>Surely</span>
  <span> he doesn’t think he can protect everyone. Usually when Thor tips his head to the side, he gets an answer to a question he can’t manage to formulate, which he does now, frowning a little.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve sighs. “I want to do it, I do. Been a long time since I fought with a team, I guess.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The constant dichotomy in everything about Steve is as prominent as ever: it’s been a long time yet not, seventy years for the world and only a few months for him. Those people he used to know are long dead, but memories of them are fresh, just like the pain of everything that happened to separate Steve from them. Steve’s body moves fluidly, his skin soft and unblemished, while his eyes bleed. Whole, but broken. Alive, but not living. Free of war, but trapped in this little apartment.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor watches Steve put his empty cup in the sink, feeling words gather in his throat like they sometimes do, but not finding the courage to say them. Does anybody ask Steve how </span>
  <em>
    <span>he </span>
  </em>
  <span>is? If he’s okay? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Natasha, maybe. Perhaps even the others.</span>
  </em>
  <span> It’s possible. He hopes that they do, and fights away the sickening twist in his gut that he can’t bring himself to ask.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll find a way to make it work,” Steve smiles reassuringly back at him. “Promise. And hey, maybe we can get a game console like the one we played tonight. I need someone to practice with, if you want. My luck won’t keep me going forever.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Luck? According to the banter flying back and forth between the group, last night was </span>
  <span>Steve's</span>
  <span> second time playing that game. And he won. Again. Though there does appear to be luck involved, Thor refuses to believe it’s down to just that. He knows what he saw.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>They part ways for bed, Steve bidding him goodnight and slipping into his room. Even though the soldier is constantly shrouded in melancholy, he seems happy. Thor hopes he sleeps well. He shuts off the light and settles into his own bed, taking off his sweater and sliding under the covers. He snakes out his hand and touches the phonograph, holding onto it for comfort.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>--</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>When he wakes, he’s </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>sore</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> all over. He feels too weak to move, a sense of apathy crushing any of his strength. Nothing feels right. His body doesn’t even feel like it’s his.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>At least his wounds are bandaged. They’ve all been taking care of, each mark no matter how small. Thor can see and feel them all over his body from his propped position. His arms are on top of the blankets tucked around him, and he’s comfortable enough, even though he feels ill.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He feels dirty, even though the filth is gone as far as he can tell. Blood, dirt, sweat, other fluids. There’s no washing that taste from the back of his throat. Water won’t do, but some strong liquor might. Thor wonders if there’s any on-board. Would </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> give him some? Is </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> angry? He didn’t seem to be when he carried Thor to bed, but maybe he’ll see things differently when Thor is in better shape.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Thor feels too vulnerable lying on his back. He shivers despite the ample blankets and moans through the pain as he moves haltingly. His body really doesn’t want to be disturbed, but he’s frantic to protect himself. He presses his back into the wall and huddles under the blankets, shivering through the pain and nausea. It’s the most movement he can muster, wounds aside. All he can do is lie here and rock himself, </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>guarding</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> his naked body as if blankets and his bandaged arms could protect him. Mjolnir crosses his mind, but he can’t bring himself to raise his hand and call for it.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Training will be starting soon. It must be morning by now. Thor trembles more desperately and fights the blankets. He doesn’t want to get up, but if he’s late, will Midnight come for him again? Will she punish him again? All he wants to do is sleep, but if going to training and fighting through the pain will stop her from hurting him again, he can manage. He can fight through this. Thor scrambles out of bed, urgent to get dressed and cover himself as quickly as possible. His wounds cry out for rest, but Midnight will hurt him if he does. He has to push through. Thor clumsily yanks on the first clothes he finds, struggling into some pants. He pulls on a shirt, then another, then a jacket with long sleeves. His boots are nearly impossible to get on, his legs sore to bend, and his arms sore to reach. His pierced midsection doesn’t like being bent and twisted either, but he manages.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He can hardly walk, but fear keeps him going. Thor limps along the corridor, wrapping his arms around his chest and hunching in on himself, praying he won’t be late. He’s just as strong as they are. He’ll prove himself to be as good as them, if they give him a chance. He’s the god of thunder, prince of Asgard, he’s...</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Asgard</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> won’t want him back. Odin won’t. The heir to the throne has been tarnished, taken advantage of. No strong and honorable warrior would let such a thing happen. Odin won’t want him anymore. Thor will have </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>disappointed</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> his father one last time. He’s too weak for the throne, too weak for his titles.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He’s too weak to keep walking. The </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>pulverized</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> muscles in his stomach lock, </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>spreading</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> pain across his midsection and down his leg. He falters and stumbles against the wall with a gasp. It’s too much.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Footsteps are coming his way, starting to speed up. Thor cowers, fearful that Midnight has found him and will take him back to that room to punish him for being late. He raises his hands and opens his mouth, but </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>’ hands </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>help</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> him stand up instead. “You should be in bed,” he admonishes. “Come on, strong one.”</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Thor collapses into </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>’ grip with relief, limping a little easier now that he has someone to bear his weight. A sob chokes him, and he’s not sure if it’s because he hurts, or because he’s broken.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Shh,” </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> lifts him up and settles him back into bed, stroking his forehead. “Nothing to cry about, little one.”</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Crying doesn’t solve anything. Thor swallows it as hard as he can, regardless of how badly it hurts his throat. “I’m sorry,” he croaks. “I’m sorry-”</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“It’s alright,” </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> unzips the jacket and starts to work it off. “Mistakes happen. Nothing can be done now but rest.”</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“What were those things...” Thor murmurs, limp as </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> takes off his boots and both shirts. He </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>shivers</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>, but the blankets are quickly drawn over him, a hand lingering on his shoulder.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I didn’t want to alarm you with them,” </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> explains calmly. “They are foul creatures, but they serve their purpose. I will teach them to obey you so they don’t harm you again.”</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Thor shivers. He has no plans of going down there again, but he nods a little.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“You must rest,” </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> orders a little more firmly now, but the tone is still kind and protective. For Thor’s own good. “You must stay in bed until you’ve healed.”</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He has to get better, and the best way to do that is to sleep. “Training...” he murmurs. He doesn’t want to miss it.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“It can wait,” </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> gives a little chuckle. He isn’t angry, thank the gods... “You will not return until you’ve recovered, and not a day before.”</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>It doesn’t seem right. He made a mistake, and now </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> is taking care of him. Thor should be out training, making good on his promise to pay his rescuer back for his help. “But-”</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Everything is paid for,” </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> shakes his head. “It was merely a mistake, and everything is paid for.”</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Everything is as it should be. Thor shivers and nods obediently, resisting the urge to turn over again. He can’t pull on his wounds by curling up again. Some of them have already been torn, he can feel the hot blood and raw pain of them. He’s not going to get up again though. </span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> slips out and quickly returns with food and medicine. The medicine doesn’t taste nice, but at least it replaces that awful lingering stench of blood and sex. It clears his head, along with the water that’s soon to follow. Thanos helps him eat, and though Thor has no appetite, he eats. With a full stomach, Thor starts to drift off again, drowsy and sore. Thanos starts to tend his wounds, checking the deepest cuts and dabbing away any fresh blood. He's careful and meticulous, covering them all back up again with a gentle hand. Thor falls asleep.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>--</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>There’s not much to do but think. Thor doesn’t dare get up again, though every shuffle outside the door makes him quiver. It’s stupid to feel so vulnerable and on-edge. Stupid to be scared. He shouldn’t be.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He is. And he’s hurting, and tired. It’s difficult to sleep, even though he needs it. Stress is slowing down his healing, and though his wounds are getting better, it’s taking longer than it should. He knows they would heal faster on </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Asgard’s</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> soil, where his own people could treat him. </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> is giving him medicine, and it seems to help, but so far his only relief is what little sleep he manages at a time, or </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>’ company. His rescuer is busy, so he can’t stay, but when he </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>visits</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> he brings food and soft touches. Thor’s not sure he wants physical contact, but </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> never gives him a chance to speak up about it, always moving right in to give it. Besides, he means well. He’s trying to help.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>It shouldn’t be taking this long. He should be completely healed in two, maybe three days maximum. As it stands, he’s two days in and there’s only a little improvement. He should be a lot hungrier too, but his appetite hasn’t come back. All he can do is lie back and think, and try to sleep.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Unconsciousness isn’t safe. Built-in defense mechanisms wake him up in the form of dreams, keeping him from getting much rest in one go. No matter how tired he can feel himself becoming, anxiety just won’t let him rest. </span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> notices. </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Of course</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> he does. He’s concerned, and he brings Thor something else to drink. “This will help,” he offers kindly.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Thor takes it out of obligation, unable to refuse Thanos, but his hand is shaking. He doesn’t want to be drugged again, regardless of for what purpose, or by whom. He just doesn’t want it.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Drink it,” </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> urges.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>No, he doesn’t want to be vulnerable like that. What if Midnight comes for him while he’s asleep, and he won’t be able to wake up and protect himself? Not that he’s in any shape for that, but he’d at least like the chance to fight. He wants to shake his head or pass back the cup or </span>
  </em>
  <span>something</span>
  <em>
    <span> to express that he doesn’t want this, but he can’t. He’s frozen.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Drink it,” </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> orders a bit more sternly. “You need to rest.”</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Thor knows that. He knows he badly needs to sleep, and that he’ll feel better if he does. Surely there’s another way, though. Surely...</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Let me help you,” </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> moves in and guides the cup to his lips. He doesn’t need help, but he can’t fight back either, so the liquid ends up in his mouth. He swallows until it’s all gone, trembling before the sedative starts to take effect. It’s taking him, even though he tries to fight it. He’s too weak. Always too weak...</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>--</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The sleep helps. Thor knew it would. When he wakes, it’s more than a day later, and he’s in much better shape. The pain isn’t so debilitating or wide-spread. The shallower wounds aren’t bothering him, and the deeper ones don’t hinder him much. He sits and rubs the fog from his eyes. He’s still exhausted, but not so much that it cripples him. He can function.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Soon, he’ll be expected back at training. Thor doesn’t know what he’s going to do when he gets there... Do all the Children know what happened, what Midnight did to him? He hopes they don’t. He hopes they won’t ask him about it, at least. The best thing to do, is pretend it never happened. It already feels like a particularly vivid nightmare.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> comes to see him, quick to offer up a large breakfast and encourage Thor to eat all of it. Just as lacking in appetite as usual, Thor eats out of duty and stays quiet. He’s encouraged to keep resting, but that he should get up and move around a little. Thor’s not keen on that either, other than wanting a bath. As soon as </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> is gone, he pushes away the last of his breakfast and forces himself out of bed. He needs to scrub himself clean more than he needs to hide under his blankets. Besides, he can’t do that forever.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Reluctantly, he sheds his pants and all his bandages. The sight of his own body is a bit of a shock, but he reminds himself that it must look much better than it did. Still, there are cuts and gashes all over him, of varying severity. Some are closed and pale, while others are still tender and red. He can even see the leftover bruises from where Midnight dug her fingers in. The bite marks in his side are the most painful. Those fangs pierced his belly, and after the Midnight pressed on them so much, the muscles protest movement. He can walk fine though, and get himself into the shower. Thor clamps a protective hand over the wounds in his belly and leans against the wall as the water pelts down on him. Water can wash away very little, he realizes as he hangs there under the stream.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Thor washes and scrubs, even though it stings, and eventually climbs out. He quickly wraps himself in a towel and limps back to bed, huddling under the covers. At least his body is on the way to recovering, but he still doesn’t feel like himself. Thor fights as hard as he can, but he can’t stop tears from gathering in his eyes. He opens his mouth to call for his mother, but she won’t be able to hear him. He’s too far away for Heimdall’s reach, or surely his friend would have brought him back. Right?</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Right...?</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Would his mother cast him aside too? Would she understand that he didn’t have a choice? </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Surely</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> she would understand he was powerless. And his friends, what about them? Would they see him the same? Maybe it’s best if Heimdall is too far away to see him... </span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Would Loki understand? Thor grips the towel and hides his face in it. Perhaps Loki would have taken that </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>opportunity</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> to rise to the throne. Thor isn’t good enough for it anymore. Maybe never was. This would be the perfect opportunity for Loki to appeal to Odin, to have Thor banished for good this time. Or maybe left to wander the kingdom in shame.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Truly, he has no idea, and no way of finding out. He can’t go back. Thanos will take care of him. </span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Sleep isn’t much easier, but at least he can catch enough to stay on his feet. If he gets enough sleep, or at least pretends he has, </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> won’t have to give him any more sedative. That’s enough incentive to keep trying, and eventually he manages another few </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>hours</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>. Eventually, his wounds heal, but the worst leave scars.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>--</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Midnight is impatient when their projections meet on that rock as usual. No </span>
  <span>Thanos</span>
  <span> today. “In all your time with the human, you haven’t learned a thing about him? After everything you’ve been taught? Surely he has not gotten the best of you.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He takes some coaxing,” Thor explains. </span>
  <span>Truth be told, Steve doesn’t take much coaxing at all.</span>
  <span> He’s honest and approachable. It’s Thor who doesn’t say much. He’s pretty sure Steve would answer most questions about his past. “I know enough. He trusts me enough to lower his guards. He invited me to spent time with his friends. I suspect he will ask again, and I will learn all I can from them, too.” Steve’s offer was a tad unexpected, but if Midnight believes he orchestrated it, all the better. The details she can see are blurry and limited. She can only get snapshots of what he’s up to down there.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t take your time,” she hisses. “The longer you wait, the more prepared they’ll be.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The lower their guard will be,” Thor corrects, though he knows Bruce and Tony are studying the tesseract. It may be beyond what they understand, but that likely won’t last. The two scientists are very bright, he can tell by that one evening alone.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just don’t wait too long,” Midnight warns, licking her lips like she does when she’s thinking about what to do with him when he fails. To his relief, she doesn’t hold him long. He wakes up back in his own body, on Earth, in Steve’s apartment. It’s still night, and he’s shaking.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s slept better this week than he has for decades, but that doesn’t mean it’s easy. Thor holds back a groan as he rolls to his feet, moving as silently as he can for the light switch. He sits on the edge of his mattress and rubs his eyes, regulating his breathing to try and control his heart rate. As much as sedatives help, he’s glad </span>
  <span>Thanos</span>
  <span> isn’t here to give him any. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>His eyes fall to the phonograph, and even before any music starts to play, the sight of it warms him. Here, there’s some security. It’s only a little, but it’s something. This is an offering purely out of compassion. Steve doesn’t want servitude or </span>
  <span>loyalty,</span>
  <span> he just wants to help. Thor’s having a harder time batting aside the possibility that he might need it, especially when he starts to turn the handle, and the music plays. It immediately soothes him, and he slides back under the warm covers so he can better focus on a world far from here. Well, the same world, but a different time. Those were good times, on the farm, with kind people and the strong possibility of a good laugh at least once a day. Thor’s not sure he’s laughed in a hundred years. Maybe a dry chuckle here and there, but usually in the solitude of his own thoughts. The other Children aren’t funny. Neither is Thanos, really. None of them engage in light, good-natured teasing like Steve and his friends do. In one evening, he heard more laughter than he has in almost a century.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor shivers and wraps the duvets more tightly around himself, falling asleep to the sound of music and focusing solely on that. </span>
  <span>Thanos</span>
  <span> has taught him many techniques for focusing his mind, and he puts them to good use here. Luckily, his tired brain is more than happy to forget everything else and just enjoy the cheerful music.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>--</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>In the morning, he feels refreshed. He must have slept well enough. Thor sits up and checks the clock: 3:30 am. Steve will be up soon, too. Thor gets up and changes his clothes as quickly and quietly as he can, desperate to be covered. He changes his t-shirt and sweats for clean replacements and leaves his dirty laundry in a neat stack on top of his dresser. He can probably figure out the washing machine, but he should ask Steve about it first. Maybe the soldier has special protocols. He forgets his extra layers of shirts today, but he puts on his sweater and shoes, and waits by the bedroom door.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Twenty minutes later, Steve is rousing with a groan and rolling out of bed. Thor listens to him shuffle around and make his bed, then change his clothes. The tap runs, the toilet flushes, and the soldier walks down the hallway to the landing, where he starts to put on his shoes.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor slips out of his room and walks into the landing quieter than he intended.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve straightens and jumps, but he smiles that wonderful, tireless smile, even though his eyes are weary and troubled. More nightmares? Quieter ones this time, or maybe Thor was too deeply asleep to be roused by them. “Hey,” the soldier greets. “Just about to go for my run.” his eyes flick down to Thor’s shoes. “You </span>
  <span>wanna</span>
  <span> come? It’s real nice out this time of morning.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yes, he would like that. Thor nods.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve is right though: it is a beautiful morning. The soldier sets the pace, and Thor lopes along beside him effortlessly. They build up the speed, but even as Steve starts to increase his pace beyond what a normal person would consider a jog, Thor doesn’t have to work very hard to keep up. Steve speeds up again, and again Thor doesn’t struggle to keep up, even as they breach human sprinting speed. By now, they’re well out of the city and into the park, doing laps. No-one's around at this hour, not even the sun, so neither of them holds back; Steve starts to push himself beyond that comfortable speed and into what the enhanced human might consider a sprint. He’s got long legs, a broad chest, and a body full of power beyond what Thor’s ever witnessed from a human. It’s a lot, and it’s impressive, but he can still keep up. Steve pushes himself even faster, a grin on his lips that looks truly exhilarated and free as he engages in this silent challenge. Thor obliges, still not having to work too hard to keep up. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Soon, Steve is running at what Thor can only assume is his top speed. Now this is enough that Thor actually has to work to keep up, but he could still maintain this for some time. Steve, however, is flagging. He’s still maintaining a speed which normal humans wouldn’t be able to reach, let alone maintain. Thor catches a glimpse of the fire in Steve’s eyes, the same determination he’s come head-on with, only this time it's in the name of good old-fashioned competition. He looks so happy. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>A deer darts across their path, spotting the two men barreling toward it like stampeding draft horses. Its eyes widen comically, and it leaps to the safety of the trees and grass on the other side of the path, while the two men swerve to avoid it. Both of them are going too fast to just stop, so Steve aims himself for the trees opposite the deer and turns, trying to digs in his feet to stop. He slides across the grass and trips over a bush, lurching forward with a yelp and landing head first into another bush with his legs in the air. Thor manages to slow himself a bit faster, and with considerably more grace, but it does take up some concrete in the process. He finds himself jogging over to Steve a with a slight frown.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve’s laughing, letting his legs flop down as he lies on his back, leaves in his hair, his face flushed and his mouth gulping in air. He’s fine. Thor stands over the soldier and stares down at him, watching him catch his breath while he catches his own – Thor has to admit he’s a bit winded himself. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Slightly</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve sighs, glowing and beaming with indescribable joy. “Aw, that was good,” he heaves.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>You are very strange.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Added to Thor’s list of admissions is that he actually enjoyed that too. Reaching out his hand seems like the right thing to do, and though his arm wants to, he has to fight past his own barriers. His hand trembles when he holds it out. Steve stares at it, then up to Thor’s face, the soldier’s mouth hanging out a little as he sits up and slowly takes it. Steve’s fingers are long and smooth, but his grip is sure and strong. Thor squeezes and pulls, righting the soldier.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>They let go, and Steve straightens his rumpled shirt. “Thanks.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor points at the soldier’s bangs, at the leaf protruding from them. Overall, the locks are a mess, but the leaf in particular is somewhat amusing. Thor won’t deny that. Steve pats his head and finds the leaf, plucking it free and tossing it aside before doing his best to smooth the rest of his hair. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>They walk home, and Steve looks so satisfied. Like he’s worn himself out. That must be difficult, and the soldier is often restless. Despite how hard he worked, Steve still looks like he’d be able to do it again in a minute or two. He kicks off his shoes and flops on the sofa with a pleased sigh, and Thor sits at the other end, laying his hands on his knees.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That was fun,” Steve rakes back his forelock and looks over with a smile, his body sprawled on the cushions. “Thanks. Haven’t run that hard in a long time.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor nods, because he had fun too. It’s nice to get out, as much as he kind of likes Steve’s apartment. It’s quiet, quaint, and welcoming, and he’s fairly certain it’s all got to do with his host. Steve is beyond hospitable, beyond generous.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You still </span>
  <span>wanna</span>
  <span> make pizza?” Steve asks. “Never made pizza dough before, but it can’t be any harder than pie crust, right? Just follow the recipe.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>That would be nice. Thor likes pizza. He nods again, happy to be included. It beats sitting around in his room by himself. It beats a lot of things; Thor’s having a hard time thinking of something he’d rather be doing. Besides, it’ll make Steve happy. For someone who carries this deep sadness, it doesn’t take much to rouse a bright smile from the soldier. Even as he gets up to make breakfast, he’s still beaming. Thor feels like he should get up and help, but there isn’t anything he can do but stay out of the way and watch.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>When breakfast is over and eaten, they walk to the grocery store together, and though Thor’s glad to be invited, he doesn’t have a clue what he wants on this pizza. Steve holds up ingredients, but the best Thor can do is shrug. He can’t remember what toppings he had at the tower, and things look different when they’re cut, cooked, and covered in cheese anyway. But he knows he likes whatever he ate, and that he certainly likes cheese. So far, he hasn’t eaten anything he didn’t like, so he’s not worried about letting Steve be the judge of toppings.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The second they get home, Steve’s on his laptop searching up recipes for pizza dough, then rolling up his sleeves to get started. As always, Thor hangs back to await instructions, ready to do as the soldier asks.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve gives him more ingredients to slice, a pepper and some mushrooms this time. While they work, Thor ends up peering away to watch Steve knead the dough, the soldier’s arms dusted with flour to the elbows, more dusty marks on his shirt and a little in his hair. Regardless of how graceful and enhanced he is, Steve always seems to get whatever he’s making as much on himself as on his cooking surface. While Steve kneads, Thor catches the soldier’s eyes glance over to what Thor’s doing, too. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve likes to watch when Thor cuts, that’s no secret, and is likely the inspiration for why Thor gets this job most often. He doesn’t mind. Actually, he </span>
  <span>sort</span>
  <span> of enjoys it, and twirls his blade in his hand for good measure as he sits up a bit straighter and gets back to work. Edged weapons were never his specialty, but </span>
  <span>Thanos</span>
  <span> taught him to be a master with all kinds of weapons. Thor has often been strong enough to simply crush his enemies, but sometimes a blade is more efficient, or the only option when he finds a rare alien species that can out-punch an Asgardian. An Asgardian away from his home, though; Thor knows he would be stronger on his home soil. In terms of dead-weight he could lift, at least, and how fast he could heal. That seems so worthless, though, compared to what he’s learned since leaving. </span>
  <span>Thanos</span>
  <span> has made him into a better warrior than his father and his trainers ever could.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s a lot different to wield a knife against a vegetable than a sentient being. It feels like something more worth being proud of, as much as he’s been praised all his life (even before Thanos – gods, well before </span>
  <span>Thanos</span>
  <span>) for his accomplishments in battle. Steve’s admiring gaze feels more satisfying.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The dough has to be left to rise (whatever that means), so Steve balls it up, puts it in a bowl, and covers it with a dish towel while Thor arranges his chopped ingredients on a plate. Steve covers it in cellophane, puts it in the fridge, and goes to clean the dishes. Feeling more bold than usual, Thor gets up and grabs another dish towel, sliding up beside Steve to dry.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>When everything is clean, and Thor is wiping down the last few measuring cups, Steve’s gone and come back with a book. He presses into the corner and starts to read. After over a week here, Thor knows where to put everything, so he quickly tucks the last dishes away and brings out his book too. Steve does his very best to fight his eyes from flicking up, but they do, and they meet with Thor’s for a brief moment. Why the soldier feels the need to fight his smile when it doesn’t ever work, Thor’s not sure. Besides, it’s kind of nice to see the soldier so happy, albeit perplexing. Why would anyone gain so much pleasure just from having a stranger sit with them? Even more oddly, why is Steve not annoyed instead that Thor is hardly a giving companion, one who struggles to answer yes-or-no questions?</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>It took so much strength to muster what few words and the rare full sentence he’s managed so far, but Thor resolves to try harder. But later, when they aren’t </span>
  <span>buried</span>
  <span> in books.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>--</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>While the dough continues to rise, Steve makes them some eggs for lunch, and he seems troubled again as he mixes the eggs in the pan. Thor watches him, running through his mind what might be bothering the soldier. Is he finally </span>
  <span>realizing</span>
  <span> that Thor isn’t worth all this effort? Is he getting sick of putting in so much and getting so little back? Thor mulls over some words and tries to bring them onto his tongue, but he’s not sure what to say.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve beats him to it, as usual, though it’s not much of a race. He separates the eggs between two plates and brings them over. “I’m taking that job,” he announces. “I’m calling Fury tonight to let him know.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>There are so many things Thor could ask, like what’s made Steve choose that? He was he so hesitant last he brought it up? He still seems unsure about it even though Thor can tell the soldier wants to take this job. It’s important to him.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll make sure you’ve got everything need if I have to be gone for a few days at a time,” Steve continues, as if he owes himself to Thor. Thor will be fine. Steve’s welcome to do what he likes. “It’ll probably be on and off. Natasha said she and Clint do a few missions a month. Most I’d be gone is a week at a time.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor doesn’t need to be reassured of anything. He chews on some toast while he watches and listens to Steve’s borderline rambling. It’s a little amusing.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor thinks about it while they make pizza. Steve separates the dough in half and hands one piece over, going to consult the recipe for how thin to spread it. In the accompanying images is a man in a white outfit and a large and impractical hat, throwing the dough into the air on the tips of his fingers. The dough is spinning, helping it to spread evenly. Thor turns away and drops his piece on the floured counter top to pound it with his fist. He pushes it into more of a disk than a ball and picks it up, setting it on his fingertips. With a flick of his wrist, he flings the dough into the air. It goes a little higher than he meant it to, but he catches it and has another go. The dough spins, spreading as it does. When he’s satisfied after a few throws, he lays the dough back on the counter.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve is staring at him with a rolling pin in one hand and his ball of dough in the other, slightly agape. “You gotta show me how to do that.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s not so hard. Thor’s not sure what the fuss is, and surely Steve has the necessary hand-eye coordination. The soldier has already proven himself to be good with his hands. A little wrist-flicking movement shouldn’t be too hard. Unwilling to tamper with his perfect circle, Thor holds out his hands for Steve’s dough, dropping it on the counter and giving it a smack with his fist. He’s not sure if the recipe wants him to essentially punch it, but it feels good on his fist, so he pounds the ball flat enough and picks it up, resting it on his fingers. Steve’s watching intently. It’s a little awkward, because surely it’s not that... impressive. Or hard. Not hard at all. Are humans not particularly good at this? Humans have odd disadvantages sometimes.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor does his best toss, turning his fingers with a flick. The dough spins at an incredible speed, but he doesn’t throw it as high. Speed is what spreads the dough, not height, though he does his second toss a bit higher with Steve’s eyes still trained on his every move. A final toss, and he slides the dough into Steve’s hands. The soldier positions his fingers under the growing disk and mimics the throw-spin motion perfectly. </span>
  <em>
    <span>See? Not that hard.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>After that, the hardest work is done. Neither of them </span>
  <span>knows</span>
  <span> what they’re doing though, so they put a little of everything on their pizzas, cover them in cheese, and Steve slides them into the oven. They’ll be done in time for dinner. Thor’s about to contemplate what he should occupy himself for the next half-hour, but Steve’s sitting at the table and smiling over.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What should we make next?” the soldier has his fingers hovered over the keyboard of his laptop. He’s washed the flour off his hands, but the rest of it is still there. As usual though, Thor know that everything will be </span>
  <span>spotless</span>
  <span> when Steve’s done cleaning every speck of flour from himself and the kitchen. Well, he might miss that bit in his hair unless he has a shower.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>What </span>
  <em>
    <span>should</span>
  </em>
  <span> they make? Out of all the food that exists in the world? Thor only knows the recipes he’s had with Steve already. He tries to remember what he ate on the farm, but can’t recall anything much beyond what Steve makes: roasted vegetables, the odd pie, bread. He thinks he remembers thick cream drizzled over fresh-picked fruit from the garden, a treat after a long day helping Mrs. Smith out in the strawberry patch. She made him some cake, one of Mr. Smith’s favorite recipes.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry, that’s a bit vague...” Steve scratches his head within the long pause. “I don’t exactly know either... I guess I hoped you would.” He chuckles apologetically. “Here, we can try -”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Cake?” Thor says. It’s not exactly a dinner food, but they’ve already had pie, so what does it matter? </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What kind?” Steve is immediately on board, poised to type.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>That’s the end of his ideas; Thor shrugs. He doesn’t know what kinds there are, or even what kind Mrs. Smith made for him.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Here,” Steve types ‘cake’ into the search bar and clicks a link that reads ‘cake recipes’. It takes them to a site aptly named ‘All Recipes’, and a page full of pictures of different types of cake. Steve slowly scrolls through them, while Thor flicks his eyes from picture to picture, hunting for what he wants. Among the abundance of choices, he finds it: a fluffy white cake covered in cream and strawberries. He points, and Steve clicks the image. The soldier looks up to confirm, and Thor nods.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>A few minutes later, they have a grocery list for tomorrow, and the pizza is done.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>--</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve does give Fury that call, and he does take the job. He seems torn, as usual. Thor wishes he knew what to say to reassure the soldier that he’ll be fine on his own when missions require a few days at a time. All he can manage are a few shakes or nods, and the odd ‘it’s fine... really, it’s fine’, which feels like an accomplishment.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Work doesn’t begin right away. Steve has lots of time to make sure Thor knows where to find everything, how to use everything, and what to do if he needs something they don’t have while Steve is gone. He seems to be preparing for the worst, but Thor’s a big boy, and he can take care of himself. Steve doesn’t mean it that way though, he’s just worried about abandoning him.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The soldier needs to relax, and not worry so much. Thor has everything he needs, and he knows how to get to the grocery store if he runs out of food, which he won’t. Steve leaves Thor and runs errands, coming back with some bills. He slips a few hundred dollars into an envelope and tells Thor to tuck it in his dresser. Thor does as he’s told and carefully hides it at the bottom of his trouser drawer. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>They bake a cake that evening, and while it cooks they eat pasta for dinner. The cake cools in the fridge while Steve whips up the cream in the blender and Thor slices strawberries into neat quarters. When the cake is cool enough, Steve nudges the platter across the counter toward him, and hands him a long knife handle-first.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wanna cut it in half?” the soldier smiles.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor takes the knife and finds the center, cutting through the cross-section. His cut is perfectly horizontal, and the two halves are as even as they could be. Thor lifts his chin a little and hands the blade back.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>They spread cream between the slices and all over the top, then take their delicate time organizing the strawberries. Steve is an artistic perfectionist, and despite there being cream on his face and in his hair, the cake itself remains perfect. It’s as if he diverts disaster from his work and onto himself. Steve somehow protects everything he makes by covering himself in his ingredients. No matter how much of a mess Steve manages to create, none of it touches his food. This cake is no exception; it’s immaculate, simple but mouthwatering and beautiful. Thor’s kept his hands off to let Steve organize the strawberries, and the soldier’s done a beautiful job. The cake looks like a flower. It’ll be a shame to cut it.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’ll be nice to eat it, though. Both of them spend a few moments of silence to admire their work before taking to it with a knife. The blade falls perfectly through the moist cake. Mrs. Smith’s cakes were always heavier, and the cream drizzled right on top instead of whipped like Steve’s done it, but this is just as good. Maybe even better. The cream is light and refreshing, the strawberries juicy and fruity, and the cake is sweet. It’s perfect. As usual, both of them are content to eat in silence, enjoying their food they’ve worked hard to make. This is well-earned. They eat a generous slice each, and put the rest in the fridge. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The next morning, Thor finds a note slipped under his door. It’s 4:30 am, and Steve has already left. He’s been called on his first mission.</span>
  
</p>
<p><em><span>Fury called – sorry for no warning. Be back in a couple of days if it goes well :) eat lots, go to the tower if you need something. Tony and Bruce are there.</span></em> <br/><em><span>See you soon!</span></em> <br/><em><span>Steve</span></em></p>
<p>
  <span>Steve will be gone for a few days, which means he has the house to himself. That means no morning run, no reading on the sofa together, no cooking and baking, no grocery shops. No company. Thor decides not to think about how that makes him feel as he carefully folds up the note and tucks it in his sock drawer with the others. The only thing he can do is make himself some breakfast. Thor prepares some oatmeal and goes to sit on the sofa with it, staring at the opposite corner where Steve normally sits.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>All he can do is wait.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Long after his oatmeal is gone, Thor sits on the couch feeling aimless. Where did Fury send Steve? Who is Steve fighting? Thor is unfamiliar with Earth latest quarrels, though he’s sure they aren’t much different from what he’s come across on other planets, or even his own. There are only so many things to fight over, and most creatures want the same things. The list of things that drive people to fight is a lot longer, though. Obligation, necessity, virtues... Thor wonders why Steve fights, knowing it’s more than simply because his body has too much steam to burn, or because he’s good at it. Steve seems like the type who would fight for virtues, and though Thor is still clinging to the possibility that the soldier might be a moron, he knows Steve’s too smart to simply go along with the whims of others. If he fights for something, it’s probably because he believes in what he’s doing, and not just because someone told him to.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve is a protector. He’s said as much with his mouth, when he promised Thor he’d protect him, but it didn’t mean anything at the time. It’s obvious now, after roughly two weeks of living together, that he meant it.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I don’t need protecting. And I don’t need help. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Everything is fine. He can take care of himself, and there’s nothing he needs protecting from.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Determinately, Thor gets off the sofa. He puts his clothes in the laundry machine, and goes to the kitchen to make himself some lunch. He doesn’t need Steve’s help to feed himself. Eggs are easy. Steve’s taught him how to use everything, and how to make enough things to get him by. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve’s scrambled eggs are better. Thor’s not sure why, because he did exactly what the soldier normally does, but they just aren’t as good. They’re still enjoyable enough though, and he’s hungry, so he eats. The table feels very empty, and the house very quiet.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Too quiet. Thor washes the dishes as fast as he can and scurries to his room, winding up the phonograph. Everything feels better with the music playing. He sighs and puts his face in his hands. He needs to pull himself together if he’s going to make it through these next few days, and the next few days after that when Steve inevitably leaves for work again.</span>
  
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Chapter 13</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>*warning* this chapter contains rape. Just like last time, it's not detailed, but if you want to skip that scene, I've marked a (*) beside where it begins, and where it ends.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <a href="https://www.allrecipes.com/recipe/27252/best-potatoes-youll-ever-taste/?internalSource=popular&amp;referringContentType=Homepage&amp;clickId=cardslot%2014%C2%A0">Best potatoes you'll ever taste</a>
  <br/>
  <a href="https://www.allrecipes.com/recipe/9023/baked-teriyaki-chicken/?internalSource=popular&amp;referringContentType=Homepage&amp;clickId=cardslot%206%C2%A0">Baked teryaki chicken</a>
  <br/>
  <a href="https://www.allrecipes.com/recipe/23600/worlds-best-lasagna/?internalSource=hub%20recipe&amp;referringContentType=Search%C2%A0">World's best lasagna</a>
</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Thor doesn’t sleep well, even with the music playing. Every time it stops, he hurries to wind the handle again so as not to be drowned by the dark silence of the night. It feels very different sleeping here by himself, with no-one in the room just down the hall. Is Steve sleeping? Sometimes the soldier doesn’t sleep well either, that he knows. Is he with his friends? </span>
  <span>Surely</span>
  <span> they’ll help </span>
  <span>him</span>
  <span> if he needs it.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He gets up early the next morning and has a shower, then sits down in some fresh clothes for breakfast. Steve’s left him a key so he can leave if he wants – but he doesn’t really want to. He doesn’t want to go for a run, and he doesn’t need anything from the store; the kitchen is fully stocked. He makes eggs again for lunch, but when dinner rolls around, he has no idea what to make. He forgot to eat dinner yesterday, too.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>That cake is still in the fridge, carefully covered in cellophane. Thor stares at it, but eventually shuts the door; it wouldn’t feel right to eat it without Steve here to share some, since they made it together. In the end, he gives up and goes back to his room to listen to music and think.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Another long, rough night brings morning. Thor opens his eyes shortly after 4am and spends another hour just lying on his bed listening to the sounds of the house. As far as he can tell, Steve isn’t back yet. Just in case, Thor pads down the hall and peeks into the soldier’s room. The bed is empty. It’s going to be another day alone.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor eats breakfast and puts away yesterday’s dishes, thinking about what he wants to do today. As he shuts the plate cupboard and turns, he spots Steve’s laptop on the kitchen table, plugged into the nearest wall socket. Curiously, he sits in front of it and squares it up, opening the lid and turning it on. The screen lights up, and a spinning circle shows the device booting up. It takes a long time compared to what he’s used to aboard </span>
  <span>Thanos’</span>
  <span> ship, but in a few seconds the password bar pops up. Thor’s seen Steve type it in enough times to know the random sequence of numbers and letters and symbols by heart. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He also knows how to open the browser, which loads Google right away. Thor clicks the search bar, and a drop-down immediately shows all the recipes they’ve looked up in the last two weeks. Every single one, they’ve made together. Thor sighs and shuts the lid, resting his face in his hands. It’s not that he’s not capable of cooking without Steve’s help...</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve will probably be home tonight or tomorrow. He’ll probably be tired. Or maybe he won’t, Thor doesn’t know. If he tries to cook something though, he can leave some for Steve. Steve won’t mind if Thor cooks by himself. But what does the soldier like to eat? So far, Thor’s not see him dislike a single thing they’ve eaten. He opens the laptop again, determined.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>If it’s recipes he wants, </span>
  <span>Allrecipes</span>
  <span> seems like a good place to start. He types it into the search bar, and the site immediately comes up. There are so many options already, the website prompting him to type in ingredients, or choose a popular category. Thor keeps scrolling, overwhelmed, but below is a grid of images – most popular recipes, maybe? He scrolls through, ignoring anything that sounds too fancy, or looks too complicated. Barbeque chicken </span>
  <em>
    <span>looks</span>
  </em>
  <span> good, but he doesn’t have a clue what a barbeque is, so he keeps looking. Pancakes look interesting, but when he reads through the </span>
  <span>recipe,</span>
  <span> they’re recommended served hot with butter melted on top, so he goes back to search for something that will be better cold, or re-heated. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Everything is titled ‘to-die-for' this, or ‘better than mama’s’ that, which Thor doubts, because not every cake can be the best, and who’s to judge? Humans are certainly odd, though the practice of favoring your own creations over someone else’s is widely shared between species. </span>
  <span>Finally</span>
  <span> he settled for a recipe called ‘the best potatoes you’ll ever taste’, which might be a lie, but is worth a try. What harm is there in trying? No-one suffers if it isn’t true. Potatoes are good cold or reheated too, so this should be safe. Thor finds a pen and some scrap paper where Steve keeps them and sits back down to make his shopping list.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Potatoes. Lots of potatoes. Garlic, oregano, pepper, </span>
  <span>mayonnaise</span>
  <span> (what the hell is mayonnaise?). The recipe looks simple enough. Thor clicks the little star in the corner of the page like he’s seen Steve do and goes back to searching for recipes. Potatoes alone won’t be enough. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Low-carb this, low-fat that. More recipes claiming to be the best of its category. Barbeque seems to be a thing you can do </span>
  <em>
    <span>to</span>
  </em>
  <span> food, but also a flavor. There are lots of chicken recipes, which they’ve definitely eaten, so maybe he’ll make that. Teriyaki...? It looks good in the picture, anyway. Thor saves that recipe as well and marks down the ingredients.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The fridge and cabinets are all full of food, so Thor does his very best to search for what they already have and cross it off his ingredients list. If he buys more than he needs, they’ll always eat it. Steve won’t mind if he accidentally doubles up on anything. Thor goes to his room to find that money Steve gave him, folding up a couple of bills and pushing them safely into his pocket with his list. He gathers the reusable bags Steve always brings, grabs the keys, and is about to leave when he sees Steve’s hat hanging on the coat rack. Thor picks it up and put it on, pulling his ponytail through the gap at the back. There, that’s better. Not that anyone would recognize him, but he feels a bit better with it on. Usually, he just keeps his head down and trails after Steve, but right now he’s alone. Thor locks the door and sets off into the sunshine.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>It feels vulnerable without Steve. Which is </span>
  <span>ridiculous</span>
  <span>. Thor is stronger than any one of these humans. They’re no threat to him.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Inside the grocery store is a bit less exposed, but Thor still moves through his list as efficiently as possible. He’s been keeping track of the aisles while accompanying Steve, so he knows where to find his ingredients. Teriyaki sauce takes a little longer than anticipated, but he eventually locates it in the </span>
  <span>imports</span>
  <span> aisle. Thor carries his basket to the till manned by a sleepy-looking child, avoiding the cheerful lady asking everyone how they are. He doesn’t want to be rude, but he really can’t engage her like the other customers are. The child gives him the barest nod and grunt, and it’s perfect. All Thor has to do is nod back, hand over some cash when recited his total, collect his change, and be on his way. The kid drops a receipt into his bag, and murmurs ‘have a’gdday’ before turning to the next person in line. Thor pockets his change and heads back home.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s too early for dinner, so he makes lunch, then eagerly waits for it to be late enough to start. 4pm is generous enough. He’ll be hungry by the time everything is finished. It takes him a while to get everything organized and measured. There’s nothing fancy about quartering a potato, so Steve’s not missing much on that front at least.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>All the spices and sauces get carefully measured out, and the chicken segregated. Steve said he can’t get sick, but does that include food poisoning? Raw meat can do a hell of a lot of damage, even to the strongest warriors. Bird meat is especially bad. Thor already takes a lot of care with anything he makes, but he’s especially careful with the chicken, separating any utensils that come near it. Unlike Steve, Thor’s kitchen doesn’t descend into a mess during his process, though there are a few stray crumbs of seasoning and a single droplet of teriyaki sauce loose on the counter. While everything is cooking, he cleans up, and cleans his dishes.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Soon the apartment smells like baking potatoes, and a sweet but unfamiliar smell he pins on the teriyaki sauce. If it tastes as good as it smells, then he’s made a good choice.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>With ten minutes on the timer, a </span>
  <span>key slides</span>
  <span> into the lock, and Thor jolts. Steve’s home. He straightens and abandons his vigil over the oven, darting round the corner and standing to attention as the soldier walks in, his duffel bag in one hand and his round shield case in the other. He looks exhausted, and his cheeks are covered in cuts where Thor knows his helmet doesn’t cover. He’s favoring his side, wincing as he sets down his stuff. The soldier straightens and notices Thor, posture immediately righting. Just like that, Steve’s smiling and moving more normally, his whole face brightening.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Smells good,” he beams.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor nods, mute. There are so many things he wants to ask, like how the mission went, or if Steve’s alright, or if he’s hungry because dinner’s almost ready, but again his tongue is locked. It feels like Steve’s been gone for weeks.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve lingers a little, as if he’s waiting for Thor to either speak or go back to what he’s cooking. Neither of them quite </span>
  <span>know</span>
  <span> what to do, or maybe that’s just Thor, and Steve is impatient to get inside and have some quiet time. The soldier starts to bend down for his bags though, and Thor finds himself rushing forward to grab them. It doesn’t matter that Steve’s more than capable of carrying them, and that they aren’t heavy: he’s going to handle them no matter what, and Steve can’t stop him.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve doesn’t try. He just sighs and follows along behind as Thor marches the bags to the soldier’s bedroom and sets them on the floor. Steve’s footsteps aren’t as smooth as usual, and it’s clear that he’s hurting no matter how hard he tries to hide it. Steve’s a bad liar, and Thor’s got sharp eyes and ears. He steps politely back and skirts around the other man toward the door, licking his lips as if dryness is what’s preventing him from speaking. “Dinner,” he manages, pointing down the hallway. “If you like.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Oh, Steve looks like he would very much like that. The soldier heaves another sigh and nods gratefully. “You’re amazing,” he breathes. “I would love that. Your timing is impeccable.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor whirls around and marches back out to the kitchen so Steve can do what he has to do. Those words warm him deep in his chest.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The timer goes off, and he couldn’t have planned this better if he’d tried. Thor tries to be nonchalant about it, but be can’t ignore the pride he feels spooning generous quantities of hot, delicious-looking food onto a plate and sliding it in front of Steve when the soldier lopes out and sits. Steve’s eyes widen like blue moons, his lips parted to breathe in the scent of his meal, practically salivating. Thor fills his own plate, makes sure everything is turned off, and comes to sit down too.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve waits until Thor has joined him, then he picks up his fork and doesn’t hold back. “Holy hell,” he murmurs around a mouthful of chicken, which is uncharacteristic of the soldier’s good manners. “Aw, this is so good.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>It is. Thor was worried it might not be, but it really is. Teriyaki is a success.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve’s sitting a bit hunched over, so lost in his food that he forgets to hold himself more upright like usual. One arm is wrapped lightly around his ribs, and he seems reluctant to pull it away. There are some more scrapes on his fingers, but just like those on his face, they look well on their way to being healed. By the size and direction of them, Thor would guess they were caused by an explosion, one powerful enough to throw Steve back and hurt his side. Or maybe he fell. It must have been a long fall, because Thor knows first-hand that the soldier is tough. Not just in spirit, but his body is harder to hurt.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He has to know, has to make sure that Steve really is alright. When the soldier looks up from his next bite, Thor makes eye contact and cocks his head tapping his own cheek curiously.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, that,” Steve nods. “Got a bit too close to a blast, that’s all. Don’t worry about it. They’ll be gone by tomorrow. Good meal always does the trick. This’ll fix me up.” He has another bite of potato, crunching through the crispy outer layer and into the soft inside.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s not much of an answer, but it’s good enough. Thor wants to ask about Steve’s ribs, because they’re clearly bothering him, but he’ll just have to take the man’s word for it that they’ll be healed in no time. He’s got no reason to doubt that. He’s not letting Steve up just yet though, not without some cake and coffee. Thor finishes first and slides both cooking trays in front of Steve. He picks up a potato wedge and brings it with him to make coffee, and to his relief Steve keeps eating, making no attempt to get up and do anything ludicrous like wash the dishes. Thor will deal with those. He chews his potato in thought, while the coffee brews, and when he’s finished he’s got some words. “How was it?” he glances over his shoulder.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, it was good,” Steve nods, pushing some more potatoes onto his plate. Thor stares intently at him, and the soldier obediently scrapes the last few on as well. “Group of mercenaries were holding hostages and trying to sell them back to the States. SHIELD had a guy infiltrate the group a while back, but it was too dangerous to attack until now. Our man let us in, and we got the hostages out.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Too dangerous. I wonder why?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Thor glances at Steve’s torn cheek and wonders how badly an ordinary person would have been hurt. Steve’s skin is still soft, but his bones are definitely harder. Whatever impact he sustained would surely have hurt a normal person a lot worse. Either that, or it </span>
  <em>
    <span>has</span>
  </em>
  <span> hurt Steve a lot worse, and he’s just good at covering it. Sometimes the worst liars can deceive the world by first deceiving themselves. Vital signs and other cues the body gives always tell the truth, though, and Steve’s a good color, and his heart is beating at a normal pace. He looks a little tired, and he isn’t breathing as deeply as usual, but with sore ribs that’s normal. Nothing to be worried about. As the Captain said: a good meal and he’ll be fine tomorrow. Thor imagines sleep will factor into that process, because he knows that to be true for himself.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That was amazing,” Steve sighs as a hefty slice of left-over cake and a hot mug of coffee are presented to him. “Thanks again. And thanks for this. You didn’t have to do any of it.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>No, he didn’t, but he wanted to. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Wants</span>
  </em>
  <span> to. Thor shrugs, but he can’t help a little smile as he sits down to enjoy his own desert too. The cream is a bit runny now, but it tastes just as good. He’s glad he saved it until now. Eating with Steve is better than eating alone by a factor he can’t put a number to.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You were alright while I was gone?” Steve asks, looking up from his cake.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor nods.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good,” Steve smiles back, pleased. “I think I’m </span>
  <span>gonna</span>
  <span> keep </span>
  <span>goin</span>
  <span>’ with this... It was nice to get out there again.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Even though he’s worn and bruised, Steve does look satisfied. Steve is a fighter, and definitely a protector. Someone who finds joy and purpose in fighting to help people who need it. With his kind heart, Thor’s not surprised that kindness stretches beyond this apartment and soaks into the rest of the world. Steve downed a plane and offered his life to save the world, as he recalls the sparse details of Steve’s story. Everything adds up. That’s why Thor’s extra proud to serve him this meal, and to wave him out of the kitchen when the other man tries to run the sink for dishes. Short of bodily shoving him out, Thor herds Steve down the hall to his room, daring with a stare that the soldier attempt to help again. To his relief, Steve sighs graciously and sits on his bed.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll rest, promise,” he smiles brightly, but it softens and turns serious in a moment. “Hey Thor...? Thank you. Really. Means a lot. You really didn’t have to do that. It was nice to have something to come home to.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>It really wasn’t much, but it clearly does mean a lot to Steve. Thor can’t help another smile as he ducks out to clean up.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>--</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve sleeps, and Thor makes sure of it. He stays awake and listens intently to the soldier’s breathing. It deepens, and though it’s still a bit shallower than normal, it’s healthy and substantial. Half an hour after Steve sounds like he’s fallen asleep, Thor goes to sit by the other man’s doorway with the phonograph in his lap. Just in case. A good night’s sleep is sometimes the best medicine. He turns the crank and aims the horn around the door frame.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor falls asleep too, but he wakes up only a couple hours later. It’s only 5am, but Steve is still asleep. Good, he needs it. Thor stands up, light as a cat on his feet, and peers inside. Steve’s curled up on the side he was favoring, probably because the pressure felt good. He’s shirtless, the blankets are down by his waist, and he’s breathing deeply into his pillow. Thor takes a step inside for a better vantage point; he can see from here that the marks on Steve’s face have healed to faint pink marks, and the bruising on his ribs is in the late stages of healing.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The phonograph takes its place at the side of his bed once more, and Thor shuts off the light and rests his door closed. He stands very quietly beside it, and waits.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Twenty minutes later, Steve wakes up. He groans from his room and moves the blankets, rolling out of bed and pulling open drawers. Thor patiently bides his time, and when Steve walks down the hallway, he hooks his finger round the door and pulls it open just enough to see through. Steve’s walking into the living room, yawning, and his gait is completely normal. Satisfied that the soldier isn’t pretending to be better than he is because he’s being watched, Thor shows himself.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>They eat breakfast together, and the mood is cheerful. Even Thor feels unusually light. </span>
  <span>Of course</span>
  <span> they decide to cook again. Or rather, Steve suggests it and Thor gives his nod of approval more eagerly than he meant to. Steve opens his laptop, Thor moves around the table and sits beside him, and they scroll through recipes. It feels routine and comforting to pick a recipe together and make an ingredients list. Steve’s so good at figuring out what Thor wants without Thor ever needing to say a word. The soldier facilitates him, makes it easy to express opinions without feeling obligated to open his mouth. Maybe it’s alright not to say much. Things are working out.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Collaboratively, they decide on lasagna, and of course it has to be the World’s Best. “Who decides that, really,” Steve smiles and shakes his head, to which Thor can’t help but smile a little too.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Us...?” he tips his head a little and peers over.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve's smile broadens. “Might as well be.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The day breezes by, spent mostly in the kitchen where Thor is set to chopping as usual, then helping to measure spices and tend a skillet. He finds himself humming a tune from the record he played last night, and when he catches himself, he stops, only for Steve to carry on the song with a deep, vibrating hum. Thor wishes he had the courage to join back in.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>They sit at the table to eat lasagna, and it tastes just as good as everything else they collaborate on. Spices Thor’s never had before </span>
  <span>linger</span>
  <span> on his tongue. They both wander away from the dinner table comfortably full, with leftovers for a morning snack tomorrow. Steve washes, Thor dries, they share some coffee, and part ways for bed.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tomorrow, Thor’s up in time to join Steve for his morning run again. They don’t push themselves like they did, but they do enjoy some intense laps around the park before the sun rises and other early-morning joggers appear. Then Steve’s off for training with Natasha as usual, and Thor waits patiently for him to return. They eat left-over lasagna as a midmorning snack, Steve recounting his training session with pride. Eager to hand out praise, Steve hails the Widow’s skill.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>A few hours later, they’re eating some eggs for lunch as a top-up. Since there’s a team meeting tonight, Steve invites Thor along, and they save their cooking for tomorrow. Scones, Steve’s suggesting. Hot scones with jam and butter. They could do that for lunch, and cook something else for dinner. What about tacos, the soldier suggests? And Thor is on-board.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The team meeting is just like the last one, and doesn’t include much discussion. Thor wonders if that’s just because he’s here, or because none of them have anything to discuss. As usual, he sits in the corner of the sofa next to Steve and eats in silence. The others pester Steve constantly until he folds and plays a couple of rounds. Sadly, he breaks his short but impressive winning streak.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“America cries this day,” Clint leans back and throws his arm over his eyes. “You’ve disgraced your country. All hail mother Russia!”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Natasha smirks and places the controller in the archer’s hand. “That’s how you become Captain </span>
  <span>America</span>
  <span>, right Cap? I beat you at Mario Kart, I get your shield?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fair’s fair,” Steve smirks back. “But you </span>
  <span>gotta</span>
  <span> wear that outfit I left in the SHIELD helicarrier.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s more Tony’s style,” Natasha quirks her eyebrow and looks over at the inventor. “You like tight clothes, Stark.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Har har,” Tony accepts Steve’s controller, “but I’ve got a mantle of my own. I don’t need your shield, Cap.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>This must be a different suit to the one Steve wears. Thor wonders what it might look like. Is it more like the one the Captain wears in that old photograph back at the apartment?</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Other games are pulled out, which Steve is promptly </span>
  <span>pestered</span>
  <span> to play. They play Super Mario Smash Bros, which features a few characters from Mario Kart, and many others which fit together even less. Steve is just as confused as he’s forced to choose his character, haphazardly selecting Rosalina.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <span>Lookin</span>
  <span>’ good, Cap!” Tony remarks. “Maybe I’ll upgrade your suit to a dress, huh? You’d look good in blue. </span>
  <span>Show those shoulders off, we could</span>
  <span> stun enemies before they have a chance to shoot!”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <span>Scare’em</span>
  <span>, more like,” Steve corrects, but he’s smiling, testing a couple of buttons the second the game kicks off. As expected, he quickly gets the hang of the controls. This game is a lot harder though, and he doesn’t manage to secure his victory on the first round. Characters have a wide range of special abilities. Though video games don’t perfectly mirror the real world, Steve still displays an excellent mind for battle strategy and manages to hold his own.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>As usual, there’s a lot of yelling, and Thor can see it’s starting to irritate Steve’s sensitive ears. So he reaches out while the others are focusing and nudges Steve’s socked foot with his own.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>In a second, Steve’s casually checking the time. “Hey Tony, thanks again. We’ll be round next week, okay? Unless we get called out, of course.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sure thing, scout,” Tony throws a salute and tears his eyes away from his game to smile up at the soldier. “See ya.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Bye Steve!” Clint calls. “Was good kickin’ your ass!”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good game,” Natasha agrees, waiting her turn to destroy Tony next. Bruce gives them a wave as well, and the pair exits the tower into the cool night air.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Traffic is still flowing, and there are lights everything, but the noise is less concentrated. Steve sighs and rubs his ears, glancing over at Thor. Thor looks aimlessly off into the city lights. Chuckling, Steve puts his hands in his pockets.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>--</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tomorrow brings more cooking and baking, as does the next day, and the next, and the next. Within that, Steve brings clean sheets and blankets, offering to put Thor’s in the wash. They walk to the grocery store together, and they share those early-morning runs. More and more recipes are filling up Steve’s favorites, so many that he makes a separate folder for them on his laptop. When they make an apple pie mid-week, the recipe doesn’t need to be consulted.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Of course, Steve gets called out to work again. This time the soldier gets twelve hours’ warning, leaving the next morning with his uniform and shield. Thor stands by the landing and watches him go, giving a little wave. “Good luck,” he says just as the door is closing.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks!” Steve calls. A few minutes later, his motorbike is rumbling off. Thor walks to the window to watch it turn a corner and vanish.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve is gone a little longer this time, and Thor cooks simpler food for himself. He restocks the fridge with the cash the soldier gave him, and buys what he needs for the meal he plans upon the other man’s return. He ends up preparing a huge portion of sweet-and-sour rice with pineapple, sausage, onion, and green pepper. Some he eats for dinner, and the rest he puts away to be heated when the soldier returns.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Within the estimated schedule, Steve walks through the door. It’s seven pm and he looks wiped but satisfied; the mission must have been a success. He’s filthy though, favoring his side again and limping a little. Thor doesn’t need to say a word to convey that dinner is on its way – he just takes Steve’s bags, listens very carefully to the soldier's gait; it’s stiffened to hide the limp. It might fool eyes, but Thor’s got stealth training, and he knows exactly how Steve normally carries his weight.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve goes to shower, which gives Thor time to heat up the dinner he prepared. Soon later, the soldier’s limping into the kitchen clean and smelling like </span>
  <span>pomegranate</span>
  <span> soap. His hair is spiky and messed like he just rubbed it with a towel, and he’s dressed in a clean shirt and PJ pants. There’s a cut ringed with bruising on his forehead, fully revealed now that he’s clean. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What do you get up to on these missions?</span>
  </em>
  <span> He seems to recall Natasha and Clint being unscathed when he saw them at the last team meeting, mere days after that first mission. Normal humans bear marks of their wounds for longer than that. Even small cuts can be visible for a little while, but he saw none, and their movements were unhindered.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor does his usual assessments while they eat, listening and watching closely for signs Steve can’t hide. Again, his skin is a healthy color, and his breathing and heart rate are healthy. The soldier is alright enough, just sore. He does fight a good fight, was unhesitant to throw himself between Thor and Natasha back on the </span>
  <span>helicarrier</span>
  <span>. With a body that’s stronger and heals faster, Thor can imagine Steve might be somewhat prone to self-sacrifice. If that’s what he’s done, it’s not a detail the soldier includes in his recount of the mission. He explains that he and the whole team, Tony and Bruce included (Bruce just for backup, though why Thor doesn’t know, since as far as he can tell the scientist isn’t a fighter), dug up an illegal weapons plant overseas. Despite the exaggerated title, Captain America is still the Captain of the group, from what Thor </span>
  <span>deduces</span>
  <span>. Fury might be the director, but Steve’s the one giving orders in battle. Those details come out in the more surface details Steve shares.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Just as grateful for the meal as before, Steve showers Thor with praises. This time he doesn’t protest so much when Thor practically glares him away from the dishes before he can get within arms’ reach of the sink. Steve bashfully shuffles off, with weary thank-</span>
  <span>yous</span>
  <span> and promises to sleep, that he’s alright. Thor hadn’t meant for his concern to show so overtly on his face.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>While he finishes up the dishes, he brews some coffee. He’ll have to make sure Steve stocks up the next time they go shopping. When he brings a mug down, the Captain is lying propped on his pillows reading a book by the lamplight. Under the blankets, Thor can tell he’s tucked a pillow under his leg. He makes no mention of it and sets the mug on the nightstand, hurrying out but pausing in the doorway to look back just in case. He opens his mouth to ask Steve if he needs anything, but hesitates.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve is smiling at him, his bangs a mess and his face glowing in the golden lamplight. “Thanks. You okay?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yeah, he is. Thor nods, and shuts the door behind him with a little smile.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve falls asleep around midnight. He’s stopped turning pages, and his breathing has deepened. Thor waits that half hour just to be sure before picking up the phonograph and leaving his room. The lamp is still on in Steve’s room, and its glow under the door stalls him for a moment. Thor tip-toes cautiously forward, opening the door just far enough that he can see the bed. Steve hasn’t moved, his head lolled on the pillows and his book splayed in his lap. One hand limply holds it while the other has slipped to his side.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor sets down the phonograph without a sound and slides into the room. He carefully pulls the book from Steve’s hand and tucks the bookmark between the pages. The soldier’s fingers twitch, and Thor freezes solid, but the other man doesn’t wake, murmuring something unintelligible to himself and shivering. Those little jumps he’s starting to make and the way he moves his head a bit too harshly herald nightmares. Thor stares for a few moments, but while Steve’s not awake to see him, he feels emboldened to slide the blankets from under the soldier’s arms and pull them around his shoulders. He takes away the empty coffee mug and shuts off the lamp, treading as quickly as he’s able without making a sound (which is very fast indeed) to put the cup in the kitchen sink and return to the phonograph. There, he sits and rests it in his lap, turning the handle, placing the needle, and settling down to keep vigil.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>--</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve heals. Whatever wounds he came home with are healed enough not to hinder the soldier when he wakes. Again, Thor wakes up first and goes back to hide in his room with the lights off so he can spy on Steve’s movements to make sure he’s not hiding anything. Just after 5am, Steve wakes up with that satisfied groan Thor always waits for. He walks out, Thor inspects his gait from behind before emerging, and they start their day.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>They go for a light jog, which Thor is hesitant about, but he knows Steve won’t be talked out of it (if Thor could find the courage to try), so he goes along. He’s pleased that the soldier doesn’t push beyond an easy pace.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>When they get back, they start their routine; recipe-hunting, shopping, cooking. A few days later, they’re back at the tower with the others, where Thor scans everyone from his corner to gauge how their most recent mission went. There are some fading bruises here and </span>
  <span>there</span>
  <span>, and Clint complains of a sore shoulder, but everyone is alright. All evidence of whatever Steve brought home is long-gone. They walk home in the late evening, make coffee, and go to bed.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor goes to brush his hair after Steve’s fallen asleep, and when he opens the mirror cabinet, he finds a first-aid kit tucked away. The next mission Steve comes back from, Thor finds it replaced with a bigger one the following morning.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>They’re making this routine though, and in no time two months have passed. On Steve’s off days, he runs with Thor in the morning and sometimes trains with Natasha afterwards. Then he comes home and either sits down to read with Thor on the sofa, or looks up new recipes. They walk to the grocery store almost every day as something to do, and they cook every meal together. Most of their days are spent in silence, from Thor’s end at least. Steve will talk sometimes, but neither of them mind the quiet. When Steve leaves for work, Thor makes himself busy, feeding himself and taking care of whatever laundry he can find. Sometimes he peeks into Steve’s room and sees a dirty shirt or two lying around, so he throws them in with his own and leaves them folded on the end of Steve’s bed. When Steve gets back, he’s usually sore, sometimes showing signs of injury on his face or in his posture, but it’s never serious, and Thor does his subtle yet effective check-ups. He always makes sure Steve comes home to a hot meal, too, and ushers the soldier off to bed. Then he sits by the doorway with the music playing, always waking up before Steve does and waiting in his bedroom to do his secret check. Sometimes Steve hides how badly his wounds bother him better than others, and other times he heals be morning. Sometimes Thor finds packaging in the bathroom garbage, which upon inspection turns out to be gauze dressings.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The others rarely show signs of injuries worse than what Steve brings home. A concussion or a bad sprain is the worst of it, and there’s always a great deal of complaining about how annoying Bruce is for forcing the unlucky bearer to go to the doctor after whatever the last mission was. Steve must not go to the doctor. Thor wonders why.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve buys a used game console and some games they play at the tower. Thor helps him hook it up, reading the instructions and pointing at which cable goes where. It’s not hard, but Steve asks him for help and he can’t refuse. Together, they sit back on the sofa to fire up Steve’s TV for the first time since Thor moved in (possibly the first time ever), and play some Mario Kart. Thor’s watched the others play it many times before, so he recognizes all the courses, and he already knows the controls. Despite keeping quiet, he does pay attention.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>This is very different from the games he’s used to back home. It’s a lot of fun, and Steve makes for good competition. He’s determined, and he’s a good sport. He celebrates wins, and he doesn’t patronize losses. They make something called a ‘Mii’, which is a simplistic depiction of a humanoid character, yet is strangely versatile (and unrealistic – these are supposed to be humans, yet the eyebrows can be positioned below the eyes, and the nose moved all the way to the forehead...?). Steve makes characters for both of them, and manages somewhat of a likeness. It’s been a good week, so Thor holds out his hand for the remote, and Steve gives it to him in the midst of creating his own character. Thor finds the sunglasses and adds them to the soldier. He hands it back, too proud not to afford himself a little grin. Steve adds a little smile to Thor’s.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>There’s an option to pick your character’s favorite color, which changes their shirt. Steve hands the remote over and Thor thinks for a second or two before choosing blue. He hands it back.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Blue, huh?” Steve nods. “</span>
  <span>Wouldna</span>
  <span> thought.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor cocks his head curiously. “Why not?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve shrugs as he saves the profile. “I dunno. Pinned you as a purple kind of guy, maybe...? Blue suits you, though.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>When it comes turn for the soldier to pick his favorite color, he chooses red, and that surprises Thor enough that he raises his eyebrows a little and looks over.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve smiles. “Lotta people think it’s blue, but before the serum I was color blind. Didn’t even know red existed until then. Always kind of amazes me when I see it. I don’t think I’ll ever get over how much it amazes me. I won’t ever forget what it was like to see it for the first time.” His smile fades into the distance to meet the memory that lives there, back in the past.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor tries to think why he likes blue, but he’s not sure. The sky is pretty, and it’s a calming color. Maybe that’s why. Or maybe he just likes it. He wishes he had something to say on it.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>They set up licenses for their separate Miis and take turns playing in one-player mode, the sound on a tolerably low level this time. Steve makes some lunch while Thor plays, then he comes back to play a set while Thor eats. They switch again, trying out different cars and characters, and gaining trophies for their efforts.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>--</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve gets called out again the very next day, and he’s to fly out that evening with just Natasha and Clint this time. Thor wishes him luck, keeping up his streak of sending the Captain off with a few small words. Steve always smiles and waves, and Thor manages a little smile too. It always falls when the door is shut, and the motorbike is out of sight.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>That’s alright. He has routine now. It’s late, so he goes to bed with his book. He’s worked through the small stack Steve started him on, and has been keeping up behind the soldier, reading each new novel the Captain finishes with. It helps focus his brain on another world, but it didn’t take long for him to actually enjoy the stories. Steve often buys what his friends recommend to him, and at the speed he reads, it’s a good thing there’s lots to catch up on since he went into the ice. Or, as Tony puts it, became a Capscicle.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Right now, Thor is reading through the Lord of the Rings trilogy. It’s verbose, but he enjoys it.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s barely 10pm when he hears the sound of movement in Steve’s room. Thor shoots sitting and leaves the phonograph spinning, his heart racing. There’s a window in Steve’s bedroom, he knows that. But surely Steve would come in through the front door... Hopeful but on full alert, Thor waits by his door and listens. Those aren’t Steve’s footsteps at all. The soldier carries his weight very differently, and he usually walks a little heavier so that Thor can hear him coming. These strides are longer, quieter. Thor can barely hear them, more feeling them through the floor than anything.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Definitely not Steve. Thor goes for the door and nudges it open warily. Midnight smiles at him and pushes her way in. “Hello, little one.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor stumbles back, his heart lurching for a whole other reason and his knees starting to liquefy. “What are you doing here?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>(*) “For encouragement,” Midnight shuts the door behind her. Her uniform is already mostly unzipped. A compressed injector syringe appears in her hand, and she lifts the other to grab a fistful of his sweater, pushing him back one slow step at a time. “</span>
  <span>Thanos</span>
  <span> sent me to help you. Your new friend has some pesky companions, but I can reassemble the components needed for the portal. Then I decided to pay you a visit.” Her hand releases his sweater and takes him by the throat instead. “Sometimes it helps to have incentive. And I missed you.” There’s no warmth there.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>There’s nothing he can do. His body has submitted to her before she even has a chance to jam the syringe into his neck. A familiar sensation of complacency spreads over him, quickly washing away the spark of fear he does his best to cling to. As always, the drug defeats his feeble attempts to protect himself, or at least retain his autonomy. She takes that from him, pulling off his sweater as she slides out of her uniform and pushes him onto his mattress. Thor falls limply, too dizzy to fight her. The drug is helping his brain toward acceptance that this is his fate.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ve been very inefficient,” Midnight purrs, sliding off his sweats. She grabs the front of his shirt and rips it right off his body, doing the same with the one underneath. “Sometimes I wonder if you make mistakes on purpose. You must enjoy this.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor weakly shakes his head, but every time she tells him this, he wonders if she’s right. This is fault. She only does this to him because of what </span>
  <em>
    <span>he</span>
  </em>
  <span> does. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> made a mistake, and she’s only doing what she has to.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The phonograph is still playing beside him. Something surges inside of him, some spark of determination to fight, but he knows it won’t last. He knows with his last shred of reason the drug hasn’t yet conquered that if he’ll lose his chance soon. </span>
  <span>So</span>
  <span> he swats out his hand in what looks like an aimless gesture, knocking the phonograph as hard as he can. Without his motor skills or strength, he only just manages to knock the device hard enough to displace the needle and shove the whole box away from them. He won’t let the music be tainted.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The drug steals his mind, and there’s nothing he can do but moan and sob as Midnight prepares him like she always does. And like always, his body responds as much as he hates that it does. He hates that physically, it feels good. He hates the noises he makes, fighting to at least convince himself that he’s making them out of anguish instead of pleasure, though he knows it’s a bit of both. It’s somewhat of a relief that Midnight clamps her hand over his mouth to stifle him, trying to keep this quiet so as not to alert anyone else in the apartment complex. Thor doesn’t want to listen to himself either, and if she stifles him, he can at least pretend he’s restraining himself with his own strength.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Midnight knows his pressure points, how to force him to buck and squirm to make this more enjoyable for her. Asgardians heal well, but he’s got old scars that are tender. Her favorites are the faint white bite marks in his stomach and side, ones that were raw when she first began this long tradition. Maybe that’s why they haven’t healed as well as other worse injuries he’s sustained before joining </span>
  <span>Thanos</span>
  <span>, or since.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>She likes his hair. Midnight tugs out his loose ponytail with one hand and leans forward, laying her body against his. The other hand she keeps clamped over his mouth as she gives his hair a tug. Asgardians have strong hair, and it doesn’t hurt that much, even under her mercy.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor has no idea how long she’s at it for, and he can’t read the clock from here. Not drugged like this. When she pulls away, it feels as it always does, like hours have passed. Panting and satisfied, Midnight grasps his jaw in a tight hand and rubs her thumb across his tear-soaked lips. Her face is blurry even this close, but he can see her unkind eyes with pupils blown wide, and her predatory grin. “Good luck, little one.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Even too drugged to think in clear sentences, he knows that he always hates the way she pulls away from him and gets dressed again, and that he can’t. He can barely move. If he tries, he knows he won’t get far, and that he might throw up. He can’t walk to the bathroom for water or a shower, and he can’t cover himself. His joints burn, his legs feel melted, and his whole body is wet with sweat and tears and everything else. All he can do is watch her blurry shape prowl out of the room while he lies there prone. All he can do is shiver and cry and think, even long after she’s gone.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>(*) The drug seems to take forever to wear off, but slowly it does, and control bleeds back into his body and his head. That’s worse, in many ways, because without that artificial relaxant, anxiety is starting to overpower what little rationality he can summon. This is one of the worst attacks he’s had in a while. Years.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Midnight is at the very least predictable. She comes to him with the same tactics, saying the same whispered words, and doing the same things to his body. She takes him when he fails, when he doesn’t perform well enough, or sometimes when she believes he needs encouragement. Like today. After the first time, he quickly started to get used to her methods. This is different though. This time feels worse, comparable to the first.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s because he’s in Steve’s house, in a borrowed room, on a bed and soft sheets given to him. And now he’s tarnished that space. He’s dirtied this place where Steve lives. Steve’s home. Steve, who’s been nothing but kind. Thor chokes on a sob, but gives up and lets it come out. Even though the drug has been worked enough from his body, he still can’t get up. He’s shaking too badly, and his chest won’t take in air no matter how hard he tries. He has only one thing, one thing that isn’t tarnished, and that’s the phonograph. Thank the gods he managed to turn it off, or he’s not sure he could ever listen to it again. Thor struggles to turn onto his side and hold himself there so he can reach for the box. His hands are clean, so he doesn’t hesitate to drag it back toward the bed, right the disk, and place the needle into the grooves. He winds the handle and collapses on his side, holding the box into his chest and pushing his face into the wood as he cries. He drags in his legs and protect himself and hide, ignoring how filthy the duvet is and just focusing on the music.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nothing in the world can remove how disgusting he feels. Not even the music can save him, though it helps him breathe better and the vibrations travelling into his chest and cheek are soothing. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor needs to clean up before Steve gets back. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Steve can’t ever find out.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Steve will be back soon, and he’ll need a hot dinner. Steve. Thor wipes his eyes and breathes in and out as deeply as he can. He can’t look at himself, or at the duvet, which he bundles up with the one underneath and carries into the hallway. It’s a blessing he’s still alone, which means he can trudge naked through the apartment to the laundry cupboard and stuff the blankets into the washing machine with no-one to see how much of a mess he is, or how difficult it is to walk those few feet. The rest of his sheets should go in the wash too, just in case, but first and foremost </span>
  <em>
    <span>he</span>
  </em>
  <span> needs a wash. Soap will never clean away the filth so deeply soaked under his skin, but it will at least clean his body. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Soon, Thor is rolling into the tub and lying under the stream of hot water from the shower head above. He drags the curtain shut and curls up against the edge as the water pelts his sore body. It feels good. After a few minutes, when most of the filth is washed away, he sits up and reaches for some soap. Steve’s new shampoo is strawberry, and the smell fills the bathroom as he lathers it all over his body. It smells so good, and it smells like Steve. Steve, who buys a random shampoo because there are too many brands and types and scents, but is always drawn to the fruity types. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor lies on his back and rubs the soap aggressively into his skin, scraping away every physical, external trace of what happened. He washes almost frantically, despite knowing from a hundred years of experience that it will never, ever be enough to make him feel clean.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>There’s only so much he can do before he has to get dry. He has to make sure he’s ready for when Steve comes home. Thor shuts off the water and draws back the curtain, carefully crawling out of the tub and wrapping himself up in a towel. He </span>
  <span>buries</span>
  <span> his face into it and enjoys the scent of Steve’s detergent. Despite that, and the warm steam smelling of strawberry, the dense smog of a sex is still stuck in the back of his throat. Even if the smell is truly purged, overpowered by everything else, Thor can imagine it well enough to </span>
  <span>conjure</span>
  <span> it, and that’s just as powerful as the real thing.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He dries and dresses as fast as he can, layering up in clean clothes. He winds up the phonograph again and staggers back to the bathroom to brush his teeth, hoping a strong dose of mint will be enough cleanse his sinuses. It’s not, of course. Thor contemplates swallowing the toothpaste to see if it would help, but he spits it out from habit.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The laundry is done. Thor pulls out the duvets and pushes them into the dryer, stuffing his sheets and pillow cases into the washing machine next. Thank goodness this building has lots of hot water. Thor hurries to make his bed with fresh bedding, then rushes out again, needing to be out of that room and into somewhere that hasn’t been stained.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wants so badly just to curl up under some blankets and shut away the world, like he usually does. Usually it takes him a lot longer to make some effort to take care of himself. Usually Midnight takes him in that room on that table, so there are never any sheets to clean. Desperation to hide the evidence is giving him the energy to move. Steve doesn’t deserve this in his house. Thor doesn’t even feel right going through the fridge to prepare a meal, but he does because Steve deserves to come home to some food. What if he’s hurt? Steve’s tough, but Thor would hate for the soldier to have to cook for himself if he was injured in any capacity. Even if he’s fine, he’s going to be tired.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve does trudge in, and for once he looks alright. A little worn, maybe, but not as tired as usual. It doesn’t appear that this mission has injured him, either, which is a good sign. </span>
  <span>But,</span>
  <span> it means the soldier is more alert, and he takes one look at Thor to know that something is wrong.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor stands straight and to attention, with his eyes focused and looking clearly forward. He tries to remember how he normally approaches Steve when he comes home – just like this right? “Dinner?” he says, lurching forward for the bags when he remembers that he normally takes them.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay,” Steve smiles like he usually does, with gratefulness, but he’s still scrutinizing, clearly thinking about what to say. He allows Thor to carry his stuff to his bedroom. “Smells good... What’d you make?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Pasta,” Thor says, setting down the bags. Nothing fancy, something simple and quick to make. “How’s the mission?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good, it was good,” Steve nods. “I’m </span>
  <span>gonna</span>
  <span> change, and I’ll be right out.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor respectfully ducks out and walks out of the room, glancing off the doorframe as he does. His balance hasn’t quite recovered, and Steve’s knowing stare is flaring his anxiety all over again. He fills up two plates, even though he’s not hungry, and lays the table, scrambling to sit down before Steve emerges. When the soldier appears in a clean t-shirt, he glances at the stove and turns off the element Thor forgot about, sitting in front of his meal.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks,” Steve smiles. It’s coming. It’s coming and Thor doesn’t know what to say, or what to do. The fork trembles in his hand, and he wraps his other arm around his stomach. Here it comes. Steve opens his mouth, his blue eyes full of concern and discernment. “You okay?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor gives one shaky nod that’s more like three.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re pretty pale, that’s all. </span>
  <span>Sure</span>
  <span> you’re alright? If you’re sick you don’t have to cook for me. I mean, you don’t have to anyway, but especially if you’re not feeling well-”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m fine,” Thor shakes his head. “Not sick.” If he’d stayed in his room and pretended to be asleep, would Steve have left him alone? Or would the soldier have questioned him just as fiercely the next morning?</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, thank you, as always,” Steve’s smile warms him, though it’s still full of worry. “You spoil me.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Spoil? No. This isn’t above and beyond. This is nothing. Thor just wishes he could reply with a smile like normal, but his face won’t do it. He stares down at his plate, knowing he has to eat but struggling to take up a forkful. He may not be sick, but he feels ill. Steve deserves better.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve is far too smart and observant to give up, and he knows something is wrong. “You </span>
  <span>wanna</span>
  <span> play some games with me tonight? I’m still </span>
  <span>kinda</span>
  <span> buzzed from the mission...”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor nods, knowing he won’t be able to sleep much. The longer they stay awake, the less risk there’ll be of waking Steve up. There’s only so much he can hold out from against the soldier.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tonight’s meal is a lot quieter than usual, and the atmosphere is tense. Self-consciously, Thor finishes his meal and puts the dirty plate on the counter, moving slowly so as not to give away that his balance is compromised. Steve appears beside him and pulls a container from the cupboard, tipping the leftovers inside. There’s shouldn’t be any, with the amount of food Thor made, but he’s barely eaten half a serving.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve puts on the kettle. “Go fire the game up, would’ya? Don’t worry about the dishes tonight.” Thor opens his mouth to protest, but Steve shakes his head and herds him into the living room, setting the remote and both game controllers on the couch. “No buts. We can wash them tomorrow.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Outmatched, Thor flops on the couch in defeat and starts to set up the game while the kettle boils. He has so little energy that he considers getting up and just going to bed. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>But Steve appears as his side with a clean folded blanket and his usual warm smile. “Lean forward a sec.” Thor can barely find the energy to move, but he obeys. Without touching, Steve carefully wraps the blanket around his back and gathers it in front, bending down so he’s not looming over and holding up his hand. “Can I?” he offers, and Thor doesn’t know what Steve’s about to do. He grabs a fistful of blanket and stares up locked in place. Steve senses the fear, moving in slowly and pushing the back of his hand into Thor’s forehead.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>They rarely touch. Steve gives Thor space, and always leaves a safe few inches between them even when they’re side-by-side. He always lets Thor shorten the gap, always makes sure that Thor has the space to leave if he wants. Those couple of times they have made contact are usually from Thor reaching out first. Steve’s done so a couple of times, and Thor’s taken a hand one or twice, but if he chooses not to accept the touch, Steve casually moves on and doesn’t make a fuss about it, and he certainly doesn’t push.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>This touch is hesitant, but it’s just as careful. Thor doesn’t move away.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re a bit warm,” Steve </span>
  <span>announces</span>
  <span>, pulling back his hand. “And your heart rate is up like crazy. Feeling light-headed?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor nods.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, then stay here.” The kettle clicks, and Steve leaves to tend to it. Does the soldier actually think Thor is sick? He hopes so, because it means he doesn’t need to give any explanations. On the other hand, it’s </span>
  <span>doubtful Steve</span>
  <span> can’t tell that something else is wrong. He doesn’t push though, and he doesn’t ask any more questions, bringing over a mug of tea. “Chamomile,” he explains, making sure Thor has a good grip on it before letting go. “Might help that heart rate.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The smell alone does wonders. Thor curls up in the corner of the sofa and holds the rim of the cup to his lips, tasting the vapors for a long time before having a drink. The flavor is sweet and calming. Steve’s right, it does help, though it might have nothing to do with the type of tea.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>With his hands full, Thor’s happy to sit back and watch Steve play a few races. They’ve been unlocking new characters, vehicles, and races like crazy, taking turns on separate licenses. Steve might be a good sport, but he’s competitive, and he gets this focused look in his eyes when he plays. Nothing can shake his resolve, no matter how many items he get pelted with, or how many mistakes he makes. Thor wishes he could give something, offer to play a round with the soldier, but he can’t. He’s not sure he could hold the remote. Right now, his mug of tea is braced in both hands against his knees, and he has no intention of straightening out. It’s safer to be balled up like this. Besides, he’s enjoying watching Steve enjoy himself, the Captain unwinding from his mission and happily celebrating his wins.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>They play late into the night, or rather, Steve does while Thor continues to watch. Between races, Steve gets up to make him another mug of tea, and fetch a pillow and a second blanket. One blanket he wraps around Thor, and the other around himself. The pillows are distributed, tea is given, and the game proceeds. This feels safe out here with Steve, safe enough that he lets himself start to fall asleep. He finishes the last few drops of tea and sets down the mug, turning onto his side and resting his head on the pillow propped against the sofa arm. The sofa protects his back, while Steve guards him from the opposite corner. He shuts his eyes, the sounds of beeping horns, flying shells, and whooping characters serving as a peaceful backdrop.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s on brink, barely lucid enough to sense Steve’s presence approaching, and feel Steve’s hand press into his forehead again. He doesn’t mind. He doesn’t even mind that Steve carefully pulls the blankets more comfortably over him. The soldier’s weight settles back on his side of the couch, and Thor slips away. Steve promised to protect him, and Thor’s starting to believe it.</span>
  
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Chapter 14</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hugs for the poor? Could you spare just one hug, please sir?</p><p>Thanks as always for y'alls comments :) enjoying them very much!<br/>If you like my artwork, I'm thinking of starting <a href="https://www.twitch.tv/faye_lucey">weekend livestreams</a>! Super casual, and I've got <a href="https://stormyandrescuer.tumblr.com/post/619936223199379456/hey-there-quarantine-pals-i-thought-it-might-be">some ideas</a> of what to do.</p><p>Stay safe!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Something in undeniably very wrong with Thor, and Steve feels a little bad for how much he’s enjoyed the rhythm they’ve settled into. He’s let them carry on as they are, happy enough but stagnant in their progress. Coming home to find Thor clearly not alright has reminded him that he needs to start making moves again. </p><p>Steve doesn’t want to make moves. He doesn’t want to ask hard questions and risk bringing up memories Thor doesn’t want to think about, or destroy what trust they’ve cultivated. Thor does trust him, at least a little. Enough to fall asleep next to him, at least.  </p><p>There’s never been a person Steve wanted to hug more, but he knows he’s lucky to get what few touches Thor offers. And yet, they spend so much time together, almost all their time in fact. </p><p>The next morning, Thor is still asleep on the sofa, wrapped in the blankets Steve spread over him. For such a huge guy, he can sure curl up. Steve finds his phone and texts Natasha to let her know he won’t be able to meet with her this morning. </p><p><b> Can't come today, sorry :( </b> </p><p><b> All ok? </b> she asks. <b> Get hurt? </b> </p><p>No, he’s fine. This mission left him unscathed. <b> Thor. Can't leave him today, </b> he explains. </p><p><b> He ok? </b> </p><p><b>No...</b> <br/><b>I don’t know what’s wrong. Asked but he won’t answer.</b> <br/><b>I’m worried.</b> </p><p><b>Be patient...</b> <br/><b>What about telling him about you? He might trust you more.</b> </p><p>Maybe... Steve sighs and looks down at the mass of blankets and the tufts of blonde hair sticking out. He’s told Thor a few things, about why he’s alive in 2012 but was born in 1918, about why he’s stronger. He’s even talked a bit about food he used to eat back then, or clothes he used to wear. How much things have changed. None of those details go much beyond what he knows about Thor, though: Thor and his brother fought, Thor fell into space. Now Thor has a new master – Thanos – who is presumably the one who rescued him. Steve knows that Thor spent some time on Earth in 1912, on a farm somewhere, but that’s it. That’s all he knows. And Thor knows a comparable amount about him. </p><p><b> Good luck, </b> Natasha texts again. <b> Let me know if I can help </b> </p><p><b> Thanks, I will </b> </p><p><b> Stay safe </b> </p><p><b> I will </b> </p><p>Steve sighs and puts his phone on the coffee table, going to fill the kettle while he thinks about what he should do. He barely gets the chance: Thor is waking up, moving under the blankets and groaning into the pillows. Steve turns on the kettle and looks over at the dishes. Usually they’re done the morning after a mission, because usually Thor does them. Despite being unwell yesterday, Thor still tried to wash them. </p><p><em> Are you sick? </em> Steve doesn’t think so, but he’ll consider the possibility. Thor does <em> look </em> a little sick when he appears in the kitchen, rumpled and bleary-eyed, but at least he looks a bit better than yesterday. He still looks ragged and shaky though. </p><p>“Hey,” Steve smiles. “I was gonna make breakfast. Figured we could have pancakes or something. I’m not so good at them, but you can help if you want. If you feel up to it, of course.” He needs to figure out if something is physically wrong with Thor, or if it’s something else. Or maybe it’s a combination. Steve remembers how it felt when Bucky fell, like he was getting sick even though he knew the serum prevents that. </p><p>Thor’s lips are tightly sealed. Sometimes, even when he doesn’t speak at all, his lips will hang open as if he wants to say something. Not today; today he’s clammed up completely, shuffling toward the stove and trying to straighten himself out. The alien untwists his sweater and the many shirts underneath, but that’s about the best he can manage. It takes all of Steve’s legendary willpower not to reach over and give his roommate a hug. </p><p>Thor’s not just his roommate anymore. Not after everything he’s done for Steve. Having someone to come home to and spend time with is one thing, and then getting all those meals on top of that? No-one could ever argue that Thor doesn’t have a kind heart in there somewhere, and not buried as deep as the alien might sometimes like to think it is. They don’t speak enough for Steve to count himself as Thor’s friend, but he feels like that’s what they could be. Steve needs to get his ass in gear and be that friend now. </p><p>“Here,” he pours out some tea and passes it over. “It’s mint. Might clear your head.” Without knowing exactly what’s wrong (yet), Steve decides to treat this like a cold for the time-being – alleviate the symptoms as much as he can, and go from there. Maybe if Thor feels better he’ll be willing to talk. </p><p>Thor takes the mug, his lips trembling a little as if fighting to part them. His thank-you comes as a short, jerky nod, but he sips the liquid and stays by the counter. Pancakes are easy, but Steve gives the bowl of ingredients to Thor to mix while the soldier heats the pan. He wants the other man to be included, to know that Steve’s not going anywhere. </p><p>While Steve cooks, Thor goes to sit at the table. He’s still not walking right, taking small and shuffling steps while his posture is turned inward protectively. The second he’s sitting, his arms go right around his body in a self-hug. Steve has a feeling the other man won’t be up for their morning run. It’ll be tough to sleep if he doesn’t burn off some steam, but for Thor he’ll manage a lazy day. </p><p>Steve prepares two stacks of pancakes with melted butter and maple syrup on top. He slices up some fruit and adds it too before bringing everything over. Thor stares blankly down at the plate in front of him, making an effort to sit up straight and look interested. He picks up his fork and pokes his stack weakly, even though he must be hungry; the last time he ate was dinner yesterday, and that was barely anything. Worriedly, Steve tries not to stare and eat some of his own breakfast. </p><p>Thor does finish his breakfast, but he does it slowly, and without any of his usual signs of enjoyment. Steve has lots of time to get up and do yesterday’s dishes, and make some drinks afterward. “You want some coffee? Or more tea?” Steve asks, peering over his shoulder. Thor looks up, but he doesn’t seem to know what he wants. “Did you like mint?” Thor pauses before nodding once. “Would you prefer coffee?” Again, Thor pauses, but eventually he shakes his head, though it seems more because he has to pick yes or no, and less like that’s his actual opinion. Hard to say. Sometimes Steve doubts Thor truly knows what he wants. And today he doubts he’ll get a single word in reply. </p><p>That’s alright. Steve doesn’t mind, though he wishes for Thor’s sake that the alien would speak up so Steve knew what to give him. It’s hard to help if you don’t have a clue what the other person needs or wants or feels. Then again, how can he expect that if Thor’s not sure himself?  </p><p>Steve takes the drinks right to the sofa, where Thor has somewhat organized the pillows and blankets he slept with last night. They might be camping here for a while, he just has this feeling. Thor is eating his last bite when Steve returns to the kitchen. The soldier smiles and walks slowly closer, holding up his hand. “Just wanna check your temperature again, is that okay?” </p><p>Again, no answer, but Thor does lean submissively forward as he sets down his fork. </p><p>“You can say no if you don’t want something,” Steve doesn’t go in just yet. “You won’t hurt my feelings. I’m just worried about you, that’s all.” </p><p>Thor looks at the ground, but remains silent and motionless. </p><p>“Okay, I’ll be quick,” Steve smiles understandingly, pushing the back of his hand into Thor’s forehead. The skin is about as warm as yesterday, but at least the alien’s resting heartrate has come down. It’s a bit above normal, but Steve presumes that could be because of the touch. Hurriedly, he moves away again and gathers the empty dishes. “Tea is by the couch,” he offers. “Do you want to play a game?” He looks back, but there’s no answer. “Read a book?” Nothing. “Would you rather be alone? That’s alright too.” </p><p>Thor stiffens a little at that last bit, but he still hesitates to give his opinion. </p><p>“I’ll stay,” Steve says, and Thor lets loose the smallest sigh of relief in the world. He gets up, walking quietly toward the sofa and immediately crawling under his blankets in a tight ball. “Are you cold?” Steve asks. “I can put the heat up...” He very much doubts it’s the cold, unless Thor really is sick, which he also doubts. This has nothing to do with temperature, but physical security. That’s his guess, anyway, and right now the best he can do is guess. </p><p>Thor gives no indication toward what he needs, staring blankly forward at the television. Well, more through it than at it... </p><p>Steve switches it on and sits. “We can play a game if you want... Or I can play while you watch.” Thor sometimes likes that. “Or we can watch something...? I don’t have many movies, but I can find something. Or do you want to read...? I can go get your books.” </p><p>Thor doesn’t respond to any of the options, borderline catatonic. That’s it, that’s the last straw: Steve can’t take it anymore. He doesn’t like to give Thor orders, but he has to try <em> something. </em> He shuffles closer on the sofa, determined. </p><p>“Sit up a sec,” he says quietly, and Thor turns his head to stare curiously at him for a moment before pushing himself up a little. “I think I know what might help, but you gotta trust me. If you don’t like it, I’ll move away, but just try it, alright?” </p><p>Thor goes rigid at the sight of Steve’s raised arms, but he doesn’t try to move away. The sight of his trembling nearly stops Steve from coming a little closer. <em> Nearly, </em> but not quite, because he’s confident this is at least worth a try. They’ve gone two months living together. He slides off the couch so he can get around Thor’s knees, moving slowly and predictably as he does. It’s hard to get the right angle without boxing Thor in, but he does his best and perseveres. Finally, he makes contact, wrapping his arms lightly around Thor and kneeling on the floor. </p><p>There’s been the time and the space to move away, but Thor hasn’t. He sits in his nest of blankets and doesn’t move a muscle, frozen in Steve’s arms. </p><p>“I know you don’t like touch, and that’s okay,” Steve murmurs, giving Thor’s huge shoulders a small squeeze. “If you never wanna do this again, that’s alright. I promise all I want to do is help, because... because you’re my friend.” </p><p>If Thor were to shove him off, he’d understand. But to his surprise, the alien leans <em> forward </em>, pulling his arms from the blankets and wrapping them hesitantly around Steve’s back. For all the power under those layers of clothing, Thor weakly drops his head onto Steve’s shoulder with a small sigh. With a bit more confidence, Steve tightens his grip. Thor adjusts his position to better lean into it. </p><p>“I have a bad feeling the last time you had a hug might have been around a hundred years ago,” Steve jokes dryly. Thor huffs as if to laugh, but there’s just as much humor in his response as in the statement. Steve leans his head against Thor’s. “Yeah, it’s been a while for me, too. Not quite a hundred years, and I was asleep for most of it, but it’s been a while.” </p><p><em> Tell him about yourself. </em> <em> Be honest. </em> He can hear Natasha’s wisdom in his ear, along with his own conviction that this is right. </p><p>“Everybody needs somebody,” Steve says. “When you’ve lost all your friends, it’s hard to go and make more. I dunno who these people are you said you follow, but if they haven't done this for you, then they're not good friends. I dunno anything about them, but if they make you feel like you can’t talk, then they <em> are not </em> your friends.” </p><p>Thor shivers, as if his body is nodding in agreement while his mouth is resistant to admit it. </p><p>Steve holds him tighter, a reassurance that he’s here to give whatever protection he can. “You’re amazing,” he continues. “What you’ve been doing for me this past little while? Just being here, spending time with me. I’ve been so lonely. When I woke up... It almost didn’t feel like I was alive. Everything I did was pointless, and I didn’t have anyone because I didn’t know where to go. Everyone I knew is gone, and nobody would be able to relate to me. I didn’t belong here. Sometimes I still feel that way, but then I come home and spend time with you, and that goes away. You make me so happy, just being here with me, and I wish I knew what to say to make you feel better the way you’ve made <em>me</em> feel better.” </p><p>Just having someone <em> here </em> has made a world of difference. Coming home from missions to have Thor greet him, and then <em> cook for him </em> means <em> everything </em>. </p><p>“I care about you,” Steve whispers. “You don’t have to tell me now, and you don’t even have to say it out-loud, but if you need anything, just ask. You can write it down, or find another way to tell me, but I’ll do everything I can to help, alright? Even if it’s to give you some space.” </p><p>Thor still doesn’t say anything, but his body unfolds with relief and he sags further into the embrace. It’s a lot more than Steve expected; further proof that something is very wrong, and that whoever is Thor’s guardian is not a friend. Not if Thor’s ended up like this, so resistant to physical contact, yet needing it this badly. </p><p>“I gotcha,” Steve murmurs. “I gotcha.” <em> And I’ll do my best to hang on. </em>The hug carries on for several minutes, and Steve wonders if Thor’s fallen asleep until the soldier pulls away a little and asks, “Do you want pie?” </p><p>Thor lifts his head to make eye contact and nods. </p><p>Steve smiles. “Okay. You wanna help? I think we have everything.” </p><p>Thor pauses to think, but nods again. He’s pink instead of pale, and there’s a bit of focus back in his eyes. He’s not right, not like he was, but he’s noticeably better. Pie is prepared in total silence, Thor’s hand less confident with the knife. His slices of apple are still perfect, but he doesn’t go at it with same enthusiasm as usual. He comes to stand beside Steve while the sauce boils though, hovering a bit closer than he usually chooses to. Soon the pie is baking, and they sit on the sofa while it does. Steve turns on the TV and fires up Mario Kart while Thor watches from his nest of blankets wrapped more loosely than before, sipping tea. When the pie is done, Steve serves a slice each and they eat on the couch together. Thor works slowly but steadily through his piece, as if remembering his appetite, and takes the second controller when Steve starts the game again. They play some more Mario Kart, and switch it off to finish the pie for lunch. </p><p>“How about a hot shower?” Steve suggests when their plates are empty. “Might make you feel better. I was gonna just make eggs for dinner, if you want.” </p><p>Thor nods and stands, shedding his blankets and shuffling off to the bathroom. Some steam might clear his head. </p><p>When the alien emerges, he looks a bit more alive, and he’s lost an extra shirt or two. Still, he tucks himself back into his blankets with the book he’s brought and settles down to read. Steve grabs his book too, and they read until dinner time. Dinner is spent on the couch too, eating eggs and toast until they’re full. This time, Thor doesn’t hold back. </p><p>A few more hours laze by, and soon they’re hunkering down for bed. Steve’s not that tired, and he doubts he’ll sleep much tonight, but he’s content to keep reading next to Thor while the other man sleeps. Thor curls up in his corner, as does Steve, and shuts his eyes. It takes a long time before he looks to be asleep. His breathing is deeper and almost silent, his legs starting to stretch out. Steve slides surreptitiously off the couch as a pair of feet creep closer and closer toward him. He untwists the blankets and spreads them over Thor’s whole body, not leaving a single part of him exposed, then brings a pillow to the floor to sit on. He rests his head by Thor’s ankles and drapes his own blankets around his shoulders, getting as comfortable as he can. Sleep doesn’t come, but he’s content to keep vigil while Thor dozes on. The alien appears to be asleep quite lightly, but at least he hasn’t stirred. Steve’s worried that nightmares will bother him, but so far they haven’t. </p><p>They don’t all night. </p><p>The next day brings back a little of their normal routine. Thor wakes up not long after Steve and appears in the kitchen wearing his shoes and a bashful expression while the soldier cleans the dishes. “You up for a run?” Steve grins, and Thor nods, looking at his feet. </p><p>“Sorry,” Thor murmurs, and after a whole day of silence, it takes Steve aback. </p><p>“For what?” Steve drains the sink and dries his hands. </p><p>“You did not get your run,” Thor elaborates, gaining a little confidence. It’s more than he says in one go most of the time anyway. “Yesterday.” </p><p>“Don’t worry about it,” Steve bats a hand, walking out to get his shoes on. “I coulda gone if I wanted to.” </p><p>“I know you did not sleep.” </p><p>Steve ties the last knot of his laces and stands. “Not really,” he admits. “But I’m fine. Besides, I don’t mind. You’ve been staying up late for me, too.” Every time he’s come home from a mission, Thor’s still been up when Steve falls asleep. </p><p>Thor looks away, pink and embarrassed as if caught doing something he shouldn’t. It’s sweet. </p><p>“Come on,” Steve smiles and gestures out the door. “Maybe we’ll see some more deer.” </p><p>-- </p><p>Steve makes his usual efforts to allow Thor to communicate without speaking, but today his roommate – his <em> friend </em> – is trying extra hard to be more vocal, or at the very least as much as before. He’s trying to say yes or no along with a head motion, and when Steve gives a list of options for their dinner recipe somewhat experimentally, Thor says the one he wants with a little ‘please’ tacked on the end. </p><p>They shop, they cook, and they eat like they always have. It’s almost normal, though a shadow of what happened is still tightly clinging on to Thor no matter how bravely he tries to behave like himself. Or, as much like himself as he has been. Steve wonders what Thor’s really like under all... that. He can’t put a word to what this Thanos-and-company has done to him. One thing he knows for certain though, is that Thor is kind. One of the kindest people he’s ever met, despite what’s happened to him. </p><p>Again, they sleep on the couch together. Thor seems to need the company at night, for the time being at least. Steve doesn’t mind at all, not even when Thor spreads out in his sleep and unconsciously claims the whole couch as his own. The serum allows Steve to sleep on the floor without being sore for long in the morning. </p><p>The next day, they go to a team meeting, which Steve is prepared to skip for Thor’s sake. But his friend is prepared to go, walking straight and determined to the landing to put on his shoes before Steve can offer they stay back.  </p><p>Thor keeps in his corner of the sofa next to Steve as he always does, eating and watching the others play games and enjoy themselves. He doesn’t say anything, but when Steve hands over the controller with an inviting smile, he takes it. The team doesn’t know they’ve been practicing together, and though it’s no secret Thor’s been paying attention, the others don’t expect his incredible win. <em> On Rainbow Road. </em> </p><p>“What did I even expect,” Clint throws up his hands and abandons his controller to Nat. “I give up with these guys.” Steve worries that Thor might not understand that the archer is joking, but the alien doesn’t appear bothered at all, used to Clint’s outbursts which are in good sport. In fact, his chin is lifted and there’s pride in his posture. </p><p><em> I need to stop worrying so much, </em> Steve smiles to himself. <em> Not about this, anyway. </em>  </p><p>Clint passes around beers, handing one to Thor with a sigh of mock-defeat, and Thor thanks him quietly, curiously taking the top off to try a sip. </p><p>Steve readies himself for an early return, but they stay as long as usual, and Thor appears at ease. He and Steve drink through the beers passed around, and while there are some pink faces toward the end of the evening, neither show signs of being tipsy. Thor can sure hold his alcohol. Maybe this is water to him, though he seems to like the flavor. </p><p>They walk home at eleven-thirty. “Want me to buy some beer tomorrow?” Steve offers. </p><p>“That was beer?” Thor tips his head, and for a moment Steve thinks he’s serious. Until he catches the smallest smile tugging at his friend’s lips while he fights to restrain it. Steve laughs, and Thor appears pleased with himself, turning a faint pink. “It is rather weak.” </p><p>“I’ll give you that,” Steve agrees. “Just to you an’ me. And Natasha, but she’s Russian. I don’t even know if she can get drunk.” </p><p>“Can you?”  </p><p>Steve shrugs. “My body burns through it too fast. I don’t know if I could drink enough to get anything more than tipsy. You?” </p><p>“On Asgard,” Thor nods. “Their drinks are much stronger. And on the farm.” A reminiscent smile plays his lips. </p><p>Steve smiles too, remembering the old days in Brooklyn with Bucky drinking a beer now and then. He’s been drunk a couple of times, but not by much. They never had the money facilitate that, not that he wanted to. And then, when he wanted to get drunk, he couldn’t. </p><p>Thor keeps going unprompted. “I expected little from the weak flavor, but without my power... I held more than old Mr. Smith expected, but I did wake the next morning with an impressive headache.” </p><p>Steve chuckles. “At least you didn’t throw up.” </p><p>“No,” Thor smiles a bit brighter at that. “No, I did not. I was not much use that day, however.” </p><p>“Sometimes I think I might like a farm,” Steve looks up at the bright sky full of street lamps and billboards. “Thought about it a little during the war, what I’d do after. Figured I’d keep fighting. Just ‘cus the war ends doesn’t mean the fight is. Maybe I wouldn’t have had a choice, anyway.” </p><p>“The farm was good,” Thor agrees. “You would like horses.” </p><p>It’s an unusually bold statement for the quiet alien. Steve beams at it and nods. “Yeah, bet I would... Don’t know how to ride one. You’d have to teach me.” </p><p>“It’s not hard,” Thor cocks his head a little, but he seems pleased. “You would be good at it.” </p><p>Perhaps. Steve makes note to ask Tony at some point whether there’s somewhere nearby where they can rent horses. </p><p>After some wind-down coffee, they part ways and go to bed. Tonight, Thor goes to his room. Steve’s still concerned, but he’s glad his friend is feeling better. Steve’s tired enough to fall almost right to sleep, the phonograph playing while he loses consciousness.  </p><p>The next morning, Fury calls him. “We need you at base in two hours,” the director orders. “I’m calling the whole team. This is a big one. Expect a week.” </p><p>Steve frowns, looking over at Thor seated at the dinner table trying not to watch while he listens. “I’ll be there,” he promises, and hangs up. “’nother mission,” he explains uselessly. A week... that’s a long time. “Fury thinks it’ll be a week.” </p><p>Thor nods worriedly. </p><p>“We’re flying out in two hours. Need anything before I go...?” Steve frowns, just as worried. This is rather short notice, but then, terrorists don’t follow a schedule. </p><p>Thor shakes his head and stands up, hovering by the door while Steve goes to get ready. The soldier packs his bags and carries them down, sliding on his shoes and ball cap. He straightens and grabs his keys, looking over at Thor. </p><p>“Be careful,” Thor gives him a little smile, though it seems so big on his face. </p><p>“Gonna be okay?” Steve asks, hovering. “I can leave you my phone-” </p><p>Thor’s holding up his arms, moving them away from his body just enough that Steve can tell what he’s offering. The soldier practically leaps forward, and Thor draws him in. It’s strangely protective, his friend’s larger body wrapping around his and squeezing. Steve recovers from his shock as fast as he can and wraps his arms around Thor in return, squeezing too. </p><p>“I’ll be okay,” Steve murmurs. “I’m gonna leave you my phone, alright? Tony’s number is in there. If you need me you can call him. JARVIS can take care of it if we’re busy, so don’t worry about if we’re in the middle of a fight.” </p><p>Thor nods into Steve’s shoulder and squeezes a bit harder. “Good luck.” </p><p>“Don’t need it,” Steve leans back with a confident smile. “I've got a good team. I’ll be home before you know it. But thank you... I’ll be careful, promise.” </p><p>“I know,” Thor’s smile is softer this time. </p><p>Steve pulls his phone from his pocket and pushes it into Thor’s hand, resolving to buy another as soon as he gets back. </p><p>-- </p><p>The other Avengers are waiting for him on the quinjet, Barton flying up front with Fury, and everyone else sat in the back debriefing. Tony’s got Iron Man flying ahead in the clouds, ready to dip down and do a ground scan once they’re closer to their target. This has got to be some bust for Fury to ask for all of five of them. For smaller, or simply more covert Ops, he’ll stick to the Captain and the two spies, with some SHIELD agents hanging back just in case. There’s nothing like having Tony on stand-by for air support, though. He can fight on the ground or in the air, and he can go where normal pilots can’t. </p><p>Tony can fly through a building and root out all the enemies without taking a single hit, which is what Steve’s going to need today. He pushes in his earpiece and does one last check of the floor plans despite having already memorized them. He folds them into a pouch on his belt and sets his helmet in his lap, worrying it with his fingers. </p><p>“You’re like a sailor leavin’ his sweetheart on the docks,” Tony puts his hands behind his head and leans back, folding one leg over the other and raising an eyebrow. “The big guy’ll be fine.” </p><p>Steve flushes and straightens, wiping the worry from his face. “I know. Can’t help worry, I guess.” </p><p>“He can take care of himself,” Tony shrugs. “Have you <em> seen </em> him? He’ll be <em> fine. </em>" </p><p>“I think Steve misses him,” Natasha nudges his arm from her spot beside him. “Thor’s been really relaxed at the meetings lately.” </p><p>Steve smiles guiltily. “Maybe a little...” </p><p>“Only Captain America would be crazy enough to miss an assassin from outer-space,” Tony shakes his head. </p><p>“He’s not a killer,” Steve quickly interjects. “He’s...” <em> So kind-hearted. Curious, a little lost, but... adorable. </em>It’s not a word he expects to think, but he’d be hard pressed to come up with anything cuter than Thor poking a pineapple with intrigue. </p><p>“I know,” Tony holds up his hands. “Just teasing.” </p><p>Steve smiles guiltily for his slightly exuberant outburst. “Sorry... He cooks for me, you know. When I get home. Does all the dishes, helps me with my stuff.” They <em> need </em> to know how good Thor is, despite his sometimes-frosty exterior, despite what he’s done to hurt them. He never meant it. It was never what he wanted. Steve believes that now more than ever. </p><p>“If you weren’t you, I’d ask if you were joking,” Tony lifts his eyebrows. </p><p>“No wonder you’re always so quick to run away after a mission,” Natasha nods with a knowing smile. “Figures.” </p><p>“Pretty sure he tucked me in once or twice too, when I fell asleep with a book in my hand,” Steve smiles, happy to shout Thor’s praises even if it results in some embarrassment for himself. He wants the others to share his perspective, and to know the man beneath the uniform.  </p><p>There are some things he’s happy to have to himself, though; as much as he wants Thor to have more friends, he’s happy he gets Thor to himself when he can. The time they share is quiet and thoughtful, neither of them needing to say much to enjoy each other. For Steve, at least. He hopes Thor shares those sentiments. Steve just has to trust that Thor would keep more to himself if he truly wanted to be alone. </p><p>Discussion turns back to the mission as they fly into international airspace. Steve forcibly forgets Thor and starts to lay out his plan. “Alright. Tony, you lock out the computers, go into the building, and flush everybody out. As far as we know, there are no hostages, but check for them anyway. Stay down there with Natasha and help her get into the weapons’ storage vaults. The ceiling should open, but it only opens manually and from the inside. Get that open, and Director Fury will airlift the containers out. Me and Barton will stay on the surface to deal with the hostiles as they emerge. Bruce, you’re on stand-by for Code Green in case it gets messy.” </p><p>“Let’s hope it doesn’t,” Tony gives a salute. </p><p>“Landing in ten,” Fury announces. “Gear up.” </p><p>Steve pulls on his helmet and snaps his shield to his back. Ten minutes later, they’re touching down in dense forest, and the ramp is lowers. The shield deactivates while the team follows their Captain outside, save for Bruce who stays behind in the safety of the jet. </p><p>“Good luck,” Fury looks over his shoulder at them and gives them a salute before closing the ramp, powering up the cloaking shields, and lifting into the sky. </p><p>Iron Man drops out of the sky and opens to let Tony inside. The face plate clamps shut. “See you in a few.” They all watch as he flies up for a better angle. JARVIS has already hacked into the computer systems the second they were within range, and now it’s only a matter of opening everything up for the Avengers to run right through unhindered. </p><p>Steve pulls his shield from his back and slides his arm through the straps, and Barton adjusts his grip on his bow. Natasha shifts her weight, and they all wait for the signal. </p><p>“She’s popped!” Tony yells. “I’m going in! There’s a side door on the North-East wall, Nat, unlocked and ready to be busted open. Meet me in the basement soon as you can.” </p><p>“Copy,” Natasha draws her gun and starts to run while the other two follow to cover her just in case. No enemies have started flooding out of the doors yet, but they will soon. Natasha makes it safely to her destination and carefully pulls open a small, innocuous door. Nobody is behind it, but Steve holds up his shield just in case. “Good luck, boys,” Natasha slides into the shadows and shuts the door behind her. </p><p>Clint looks around at the trees. “Think you can get me up there?” he asks. The lowest branches are a bit high to jump to. “I can cover you better from up high.” </p><p>“Sure thing,” Steve agrees, jogging over to the tree Clint points to and holding his shield. He braces his legs and bounces on his toes. “Have a run at it.” </p><p>Clint sprints and hops nimbly onto the shield, and Steve pushes him as the archer jumps. The added force flings the archer high into the branches, where he grabs on and climbs into the foliage. The main doors to the compound burst open, and the enemies start to trickle out, coughing from smoke – while Tony floods the main passageways and rooms with it, Natasha will follow smaller back-passages to safely arrive where she needs to, finishing off anyone who tries to escape that way. Those that make it out will run straight into Captain America with Hawkeye watching his six. It’s a good combo. </p><p>Steve’s land-speed is unmatchable, not by human feet at least. Clint’s arrows whizz past him and into a cluster of enemies just free of the doorway, exploding. Steve scatters those coming up just behind with a strong shield-throw, running into the fray to retrieve it. He breaks ribs with a punch and sends another man flying into the wall with his foot before picking up his shield and retreating to bring the fight back out into the open. With the enemy bottle-necked and all the other doors locks, they’re easy pickings. Clint fires safely from his tree, and Steve doesn’t let anyone fire a shot in the archer’s direction, though they barely get a chance to notice the arrows before they’re being taken out.  </p><p>The plan is a success: Natasha meets Tony in the basement of the complex, where he opens the blast doors to the warehouse. She and the suit clear out any remaining workers in the storage bay, Tony opens the ceiling hatch, and SHIELD descends to confiscate the illegal weapons. Steve and Clint finish off the last hostiles, and everyone loads back on the jet. </p><p>One down, three more to go. Everyone is in good spirits, though a little weary. They’ll fly to a safe house to rest for a few hours, then it’s on to the next. Within the week, this entire ring of black-market weapons’ distributors will be gone, and the only thing left will be to handle any stragglers. </p><p>-- </p><p>The next two missions go fairly well. The team moves quickly, resting as little as they physically need to keep going, so they can reduce the amount of time between raids and decrease the chance that the other compounds will have time to prepare. As much as they do what they can to cut off each base before any transmission can be sent, and eliminate all hostiles, there’s still a chance word will get through. Nobody’s perfect. </p><p>Their attack method is incredibly effective. It’s only until the final base when they need to call for a Code Green. </p><p>Maybe it’s because they’re all worn out, or that word has traveled far enough and this compound is ready for them, or maybe it’s just bad luck. For whatever reason, this base is armed more heavily. Though Tony keeps all the doors locked out but the side one Natasha slips through and the main entrance, one team of hostiles breaks through a maintenance hatch in the roof, while another group blows another side door right off its hinges. Now, there are two too many directions the enemy is coming from for just Steve and Clint to handle. They can’t defend this many angles at once. The three men on the roof have honed in on where Clint is shooting from in the foliage, and are setting up a long-range canon. </p><p>“Hawkeye, get down!” Steve calls over his earpiece, running toward the building and snapping his shield to his back. “They’re gonna shoot you down!” He bowls through two men in his way, throwing them into their friends and ignoring them as they open fire. He has to get on that roof. “Code Green!” he yells as he sprints for a small railing installed by the wall. “Code green!” </p><p>“Copy!” Bruce yells back. </p><p>Steve jumps onto the railing as bullets bounce off the metal by his ankles, and throws himself onto the roof. It’s only one story above-ground, so he can make it without too much trouble, bless the serum. The men have assembled the canon and fire a shot into the trees while one man draws his pistol on the soldier. Steve bats the bullets aside with his shield and runs toward them, eyes wide as the trees where Clint is taking shelter explode. “<em> Clint! </em> Come in!” He jams the edge of his shield into the canon and kicks back the pistol-wielding man. The canon explodes, and Steve rips out his shield, blocking two more bullets and taking down the remaining two men. </p><p>“What’s going on up there?” Natasha demands. </p><p>Steve picks up the remaining pieces of canon and throws them to the ground, where they explode and incapacitate a handful more hostiles. More men are climbing through the service hatch, leading with their guns. Steve prepares to deal with them as they come up, at the advantage, but a grenade is hurled out the hole and toward him, the hatch hurriedly closed. In a moment, Steve holds up his shield and runs for the lip of the roof, jumping just as the grenade explodes. The force throws him rather unceremoniously off the roof and into the railing below. With a clink, he bounces off it and sprawls in the dirt. </p><p>Something big and green and angry drops out of the sky, roaring and throwing up dirt upon landing. The Hulk bellows and grabs handfuls of hostiles, throwing them aside. Bullets pelt his thick hide, but only add to his fury. The beast turns and spots Steve’s shield, loping over. </p><p>“Go!” Steve yells, batting Hulk toward the burning trees. “Help Barton! Protect him!” </p><p>Hulk snorts and obeys, whirling around to rush into the forest. Steve tightens his grip on his shield and scrambles to his feet, looking around at the enemies trying to encircle him. A fall like this won’t slow him down. </p><p>-- </p><p>They win, but that last fight took its toll. Clint is fine, miraculously, nursing no more than a concussion, a few bruises, and some mild burns. He managed to leap to the tree next-door, but the blast still knocked him from his perch. Tony was quick to fly above-ground to assist, and the last hostiles were struck down. </p><p>Now they’re all on the jet, sprawled out while Fury flies them back to New York. Bruce does his best to help with whatever bumps and scrapes they’re bringing home this time, but he’s exhausted, so Steve orders him to rest. Natasha offers to help, but she’s tired too, so the Captain orders her right down beside Bruce. </p><p>Steve usually unzips his suit and ties the sleeves around his waist, putting a shirt on instead, but today he decides not to bother and just slides off his gloves and helmet so he can go help Barton. Clint is wiped too, and when Steve is done basic first-air, the archer goes to nap with the other two after muttering a drowsy-thank you. </p><p>Steve sits heavily on a bench, trying not to think about how much he aches, and how tired he is. He can go for longer and harder than his team can, but he has limits too. The thought of a hot meal, and maybe a quiet game with Thor makes him feel even drowsier. </p><p>“I guess you’re gonna ditch,” Tony sits beside him, a little bruised but otherwise untouched. </p><p>Steve smiles bashfully. “Yeah...” </p><p>“You know, you guys could both come crash at the tower... We got space. We’d love to have you.” Tony looks him over. “We’re gonna order a ton of food and just hang out. You should come. Kick back, relax...” </p><p>“Thanks Tony,” Steve smiles gratefully this time. “I really appreciate it. But I gotta stay with Thor, and I’m not sure he’s ready for that yet. Don’t wanna push him, you know?” <em> And I need the space myself. I just need to be with Thor for a bit. </em> For Steve’s own sake, too. </p><p>“Sure thing, old man, I know you’ve got an early bedtime,” Tony puts up his hands good-naturedly and gets up. “Well, I’m gonna nap for a bit too, if you don’t mind.” </p><p>“No, course not,” Steve shakes his head, standing up to pull some blankets from the overhead compartment. “Here.” </p><p>Tony curls up beside Bruce and spread the blankets across all four weary Avengers. He shuts his eyes, and is almost immediately snoring away with the others. Steve smiles to himself and watches them from his seat for a bit. They really do make a good team. He wonders what life is like in the tower, and part of him really wants to be part of that. He’s not ready though, not yet, and he’s truly happy with Thor in his – <em> their </em> – apartment. </p><p>“Another success, Captain,” Fury says quietly from the pilot’s seat. </p><p>“Yeah,” Steve leaves his shield behind and limps over, sitting in the co-pilot's seat. His hip must be bruised, if not cracked, but it should be mostly healed by the time he’s home. </p><p>“Make any progress with your house-guest?” </p><p>To be honest, Steve’s put that mission on the shelf. Thor is his friend now, and no longer just his charge. There’s a man at stake more than whatever he was trying to bring about. The portal is disassembled, and Thor himself isn’t much of a threat anymore. Steve hopes that lasts. He just shakes his head in response to Fury. “Thor doesn’t say much to be honest.” That’s the truth, at least with regard to his mouth; Thor says a whole lot in other ways.  </p><p>Fury nods slowly. “Some of the portal components we confiscated and removed to other locations have gone missing.” </p><p>Steve frowns and rapidly turns his gaze to the director. “Thor only leaves the house with me, but if I’m gone he only goes to the grocery store. As far as I’m aware, at least, but I don’t think-” </p><p>“I’m not accusing anyone of anything,” Fury calmly cuts him off. “The pieces seem to be disappearing between missions, anyway. It’s not Thor doing it, but you have to be willing to accept that he could have friends helping him.” </p><p>Steve frowns at that word, because these people Thor works for are <em> not </em> his <em> friends </em> . “Sir, I really don’t think Thor has much to do with that. He doesn’t have any of communicating with anyone outside of the house.” <em>Except with my phone, which I left behind, but that was only for this mission. </em> </p><p>“Whether he’s directly involved in that or not, he’s still on their side,” Fury reasons. <em> He’s not. He can’t be. I don’t believe that. </em> “I’m just trying to say be careful, Steve. That’s all. Keep your eyes and ears open.” </p><p>“I will,” Steve nods. He always does. Thor’s got his full attention, not because the soldier believes him a threat, but because his friend needs it. His friend is hurting, and Steve’s going to help. </p><p>When the jet lands at Stark Tower, it’s pelting with rain. Steve rouses his friends and helps them carry their stuff onto the landing pad. It’s only about 3:30pm when he checks the time. There’s lots of time to get home before dinner. Steve makes sure all his friends make it down to the common area and are comfortable. He helps Tony grab some bedding to hand around, then goes to change out of his uniform in one of the many huge and luxurious bathrooms. Under the suit, he’s covered in dirt and sweat, and his body is bruised to hell. Nothing is broken, but that splotch on his hip is tender to the touch. There are a few fading cuts on his face, but otherwise he’s fine. </p><p>He washes his face and dresses, gathering his stuff and waving goodbye to his friends. They try to get him to stay, but he has to get back to Thor. Steve slides onto his motorbike and drives home through the storm, looking forward to putting his feet up and spending some peaceful time with just him and Thor, away from loud noises.  </p><p>When he gets inside, the shower is running. Steve puts down his stuff and shuts the door, raking back soaking bangs and looking around. He can hear the strong pelting of water, and the swishing of the washing machine, while the smell of strawberry drifts through the apartment. Steve frowns and carries his bags to his room. The bathroom door is locked when he walks by, and the phonograph is playing from Thor’s room across the hall. </p><p>Steve leaves his bags in the corner of his room and limps back out. He is a little early. “I’m home!” he calls, just so Thor knows. Usually he’s back a little later. Steve flops onto the sofa and stretches out his leg with a wince. </p><p>A few minutes later, the water shuts off and the bathroom door opens. Steve turns in time to see a towel-covered Thor dart across the hall into his room and shut the door. Frowning, Steve lays back and picks up his book to wait. </p><p>Thor opens his door and emerges quietly from his room. The music has been turned off, and his feet pad unevenly across the floor. When Steve puts down his book and sits up, his friend doesn’t look well at all. Though his skin is still red from his hot shower, it’s lackluster underneath, and his eyes are swollen and hazy. His steps are uneven, and he’s back to wearing an obscene number of layers. </p><p>He looks drugged.  </p><p>Steve is on his feet, following Thor into the kitchen where his friend goes to pull open the fridge. “No, no it’s alright,” Steve shakes his head and blocks him. “You don’t have to cook. What happened, are you okay?” </p><p>Thor shivers, making a determined face that barely hides how horrible he looks. He reaches for the cabinet beside him. </p><p>“Thor, stop,” Steve moves closer, alarmed and trying to stay calm. “Hey, stop it. Come sit down.” </p><p>Thor freezes, leaning on the counter for balance. He looks like he’s about to collapse, or burst into tears. Possibly both. He looks lost and hurting and fearful and <em> broken</em>, but he’s leaning forward ever so slightly, like something inside of him wants – needs – to be closer but he’s held back by that fear and everything else. Held back by something, anyway. </p><p>Steve holds up his arms and comes a little closer, slow but inviting. There’s barely a beat before Thor is practically falling into his arms and holding on tight. His broad, muscular body is shaking, relying on Steve to hold him up as he starts to quietly cry into Steve’s shoulder. Fast as he can, Steve maps his path back to the living room and starts to back his way there, taking Thor with him. Thor follows, letting himself be guided. They collapse on the couch together, Steve trying to sit but ending up toppling backwards with Thor dropping on top of him. He grunts and winces, but doesn’t let go. Thor doesn’t care that his own weight plus Steve’s is pushing his arms into the couch, squeezing harder and pushing his face into Steve’s neck unrelentingly, no longer holding himself back from indulging in the soldier’s comfort. </p><p>“Hey...” Steve tries, licking his lips. “It’s okay. Just breathe.” It all feels so useless, but his brain is reeling for words. Nothing will fix it, even if he knew the perfect thing to say. He wishes he at least knew what was bothering Thor, how to make a start on helping. “Just breathe...” </p><p>Thor does breathe, shuddering and swallowing hoarsely. </p><p>Steve gives him a few minutes to catch his breath, keeping the hug firm. “Here, sit up,” he urges quietly, letting go with one arm so he can push himself up and lean against the sofa arm. He ends up dragging Thor with him, who is either unwilling or unable to let go. Steve rests his hand on the back of Thor’s head, feeling that raging, unhealthy pulse through his friend’s skull. “What happened?” he asks softly. “You’re shaking...” </p><p>Thor tenses up, but he can’t hide what his body is displaying. He squeezes Steve tighter, muscles bulging all through his back and around his arms, visible through a sweater and at least four shirts. His lips pull wetly apart, but the only sound that comes out is a whooshing sigh. </p><p>“Somethin’ happen while I was gone?” Steve tries. “I’m gonna get you a phone tomorrow so you can call or text me if you need anything.” He can’t begin to guess what’s pushing Thor to this state. Is it just plain ol’ anxiety? That’s twice Steve’s come home to Thor looking ragged, but Steve’s left for plenty of missions and it’s not bothered Thor like this. Maybe worry has set in, but he doubts it’s that. Is Thor finding himself in a similar place between missions? How many times has this happened? Is there even a correlation? Steve knows for himself that periods of anxiety or depression can hit him out of the blue. Not everything has to make sense. “Did you have a panic attack?” </p><p>Things are different than they were in the forties. Steve’s learned a whole menu of terms for things he’s experienced before, and for new experiences. Luckily with the internet, it’s easy to Google what’s wrong with him without having to talk to anybody. Google thinks he might have PTSD, anxiety, depression, and panic attacks, which are common for soldiers, and those who experience trauma. Steve knows how it feels after a panic attack, even though he hasn’t had one in a while, and Thor certainly looks like he’s just had one: the trouble breathing, the shaking, the inability to speak (more than usual, at least), the elevated heart rate, the overall weakness... It doesn’t explain why his eyes look so glazed, though. </p><p>Thor might not know what a panic attack is, but he mumbles something ambiguous into Steve’s shoulder. Under the smell of his damp, strawberry-shampooed hair is something else Steve can’t put his finger on. </p><p>“What happened?” Steve asks quietly. “Nightmare...?” If there’s a cause, he might be able to offer help to reduce the chances of that being a trigger again. And if there’s no obvious cause, then the least Steve can do is provide comfort. He wishes he could do more. </p><p>Thor shakes his head. </p><p>“You wanna talk about it?” Steve tries. “Or write it down... We’ll figure something out-” </p><p>Thor shakes his head again, but he does loosen his grip a bit and start to relax, lifting his head and tucking it on Steve’s chest. </p><p>Steve’s happy to sit here for a minute or two, holding Thor against him. Eventually though, someone’s stomach grumbles, and he’s not sure who’s, if not both. It’s getting close to dinner time. “You hungry?” Steve asks. </p><p>Thor shoots up, planting his hands on either side of Steve’s ribs, his eyes wide and red as he starts to pull clumsily away. “S-sorry,” he starts. </p><p>“No, no, it’s okay,” Steve follows just as quickly, but with substantially more coordination. He pulls his leg off the sofa and starts to get up with a wince. “It’s alright, Thor, really. Don’t feel bad.” </p><p>Thor opens his mouth to protest, wiping his eyes dry and leaping forward with reaching hands to help Steve stand up. “Are you alright?” he murmurs hoarsely, but he looks much better, despite the haze still in his eyes and a slight slur in his voice. </p><p>“Yeah, yeah,” Steve grunts as he’s pulled upward by the stronger man. “Just a bit bruised. I’ll sleep it off.” </p><p>“Then let me-” </p><p>“Together,” Steve argues. “No offense, but you look like you might light yourself on fire by accident if I let you in the kitchen unsupervised.” He smiles apologetically, but it’s the truth. </p><p>Thor actually smiles back a little and wipes his eyes again. “Perhaps.” </p><p>“Something easy, then,” Steve agrees, relieved Thor won’t fight him on this. His friend nods and stays close as they walk to the kitchen. Thor’s swaying, and Steve’s limping, but together they’re stable, shoulder-to-shoulder. </p><p>They make pasta again, Steve sitting at the table to chop vegetables while Thor stirs a pot of noodles and some sauce with beef in a frying pan. Steve walks to the stove and pushes the vegetable into the bubbling sauce. They stand over it and watch, listening to the rain start to ease into a spatter. When everything is finished, they sit at the table to eat. Thor is lacking his usual appetite, but he eats slowly alongside Steve, finishing off a portion. Steve eats as much as he needs to, feeding the serum’s demands. His bruises will be gone by tomorrow. </p><p>They sit on the sofa to play games after dinner. Thor takes Steve’s leg and draws it onto the cushions before plugging in the game and turning the couch a little so Steve can see without twisting. Then he sits in the middle cushion instead of the opposite corner, leaning forward to avoid putting pressure on Steve’s knee, and hands over a controller. Playing a few rounds doesn’t entirely lift the mood, but it does help. Both of them are exhausted, and when Thor brings a blanket for Steve, he’s got one for himself too. </p><p>He’s about to sit on the floor, but Steve pats his chest invitingly. No words need to be spoken: Thor slides onto the sofa and puts his head on Steve’s shoulder, keeping his weight off the soldier’s hips. Steve tucks the blankets around both of them and wraps his arms around his friend’s back protectively. Both of them manage to sleep through the night. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Chapter 15</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>*warning* for a couple more rape scenes like in previous chapter - not detailed, but disturbing.</p>
<p>Meanwhile, some progress is made (quite possibly on both sides...)<br/>Thanks again for your feedback :) last week has been... interesting, and it's really kept me going &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>Thor can move like he never could. The Dark Order teaches him how to fight against a variety of opponents, with a variety of weapons. He learns at an exponential rate, absorbing everything they can teach him. </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> is pleased, declaring that he can join them on their next mission. He presents Thor with his very own uniform.</span>
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</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>It’s very sleek, the patterns matching the others‘ own uniforms. There are some gold and white accents over the dark fabric which hugs his body but leaves his arms bare.</span>
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</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“These are for you,” </span>
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    <span>Thanos</span>
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    <span> presents two long knives with black handles. “You are an exceptional warrior. I look forward to having you at my side.”</span>
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</p>
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  <em>
    <span>Thor looks forward to it too. </span>
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    <span>Thanos</span>
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  <em>
    <span> has done so much for him, and it’s time to start paying those favors back. He goes to bed with anticipation for what’s to come. </span>
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</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The next planet they come across, </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> brings the Sanctuary II into the first layer of atmosphere, deploying the Order in Q-ships. Proxima Midnight gathers the hounds with her, leading them aboard a ship of her own. When they land, Ebony Maw takes the lead, ready to alert the planet of what’s to come. Thor can already see that things are dire: the streets and buildings are dilapidated, there are people huddled in corners trying to hide and protect themselves, and everyone is dirty. Mass poverty is evident with one glance.</span>
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</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Thor has his orders. He’s been sent into the city while the others do their work, and he’s to find the hideout of undercover enemies. Thor finds the building easily enough; an old barn-like structure stands among the others, the windows boarded up and a huge door bolted shut. It’s reinforced from behind. Thor doesn’t bother with the door, leaping onto the roof in a single bound and punching a hole through the ceiling instead. He peers down and sees handfuls of people scampering out of the way as debris falls on them. Thor hops through the hole and drops to the ground with a thud. He draws a blade in each hand, leaping into the fight before the dust has a chance to settle.</span>
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</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>They look like civilians, but </span>
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  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
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  <em>
    <span> has already warned him they’re dangerous. Thor doesn’t give them a chance to fight back, working through the throng as fast as he can. This species is strong, but not as strong as the other Children, and not as strong as Thor. He finishes them off as fast as he can so he can re-group with the Order and receive his next task.</span>
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</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Thor drops the last enemy and sheathes his blades, kicking the reinforced doors. The metal groans but submits, the locking bars inside snapping. A second kick snaps the padlock holding the wooden doors shut and the doors themselves splinter. Thor walks out into the street.</span>
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</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>A small pack of hounds run by, chasing down a trio of civilians and mauling them to the ground. Thor looks away and runs back toward where he left the others. Thanos trained the hounds that Thor is a friend, but the beasts still innerve him.</span>
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</p>
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  <em>
    <span>Midnight meets him in the chaos that has consumed the street they landed in. She prowls over, spear in-hand, while the hounds ravage anyone they come across. “You’re late,” she licks her lips. “Come. The hounds will finish it. Only a few more, and the mission will be complete.”</span>
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</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
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  <em>
    <span> knows how to purge a planet... Thor looks around. They’ve made short work of this. He follows Midnight into the Q-ship. </span>
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</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
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  <em>
    <span> is pleased when everyone returns to the Sanctuary II. The hounds finished off who they needed to before Midnight called them back, and now the Children have gathered before their master. “Rest,” </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> orders, a pleased smile on his face. “We continue to the next planet.”</span>
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</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Thor is pleased too, walking straight and tall toward his room when </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> dismisses them. He’s going to get changed, then join the others for a meal. He doesn’t get much farther than the deck where his quarters are when Midnight intercepts him.</span>
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</p>
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  <em>
    <span>She takes his arm, wrapping her long fingers around his bare bicep and admiring him. “You did well today, little one,” she licks her lips, stalling him in the hallway. There’s something in her hand. “But not well enough. You must do better, be faster.”</span>
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</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I did my best,” Thor replies as calmly as he can.</span>
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</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“You will do better,” Midnight draws her tongue across her teeth. “You will learn, and that will take time. No-one is perfect.”</span>
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</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He fought his hardest, and did as he was told. He killed the enemies and returned for more orders. It’s not enough for Midnight, though – Thor needs to be faster next time. He needs to be better.</span>
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</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Mistakes happen, but they must be rectified. Lessons can only be learned with someone to teach them. Midnight is the teacher, and she’s brought an injector with her. The needle is jammed into his neck, a drug pushed into his body with a hiss. In an instant, he feels weaker. Midnight holds him up as his legs turn to jelly and drags him back toward the elevator. Before he knows it, she’s practically throwing him onto the table and closing the cell door behind them.</span>
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</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Please...” he whispers. “Please, I’ll do better.” His voice is slurring.</span>
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</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“You will,” she purrs, rubbing her thumb down his lips, over his chin, and down his throat to the collar of his uniform. She loosens it and starts to strip him. Thor lifts his leaden arms to fight her, but she bats them aside, dragging his suit off his body. She dumps it and his weapons on the floor, </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>eagerly</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> unfastening her own uniform while pressing his wrists into the same cuffs as before.</span>
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</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Please...” Thor murmurs, pushing his heels into the table to get away, even though it’s useless. Midnight grabs his ankles with a growl and wrestles them down, cuffing them to the table too. Too weak from the drug she’s given him, he can’t stop her from restraining him, and he can’t throw her off as she climbs naked on top of him. He tries to buck his hips, but she grabs hold of him and gives a warning squeeze. He cries out and strains his cuffs, trying to fight back the animal desires she’s stimulating against his will. Again, she pushes on his scars formed from the wounds the hounds gave him, and forces him to push against her.</span>
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</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Just like before, his body responds even though he wishes it wouldn’t, even though he doesn’t want her to do this. Midnight doesn’t care. She gets her pleasure, leaning down to yank out his ponytail and pull at </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>handfuls</span>
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  <em>
    <span> of hair. All he can do is cry.</span>
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</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She takes what she wants and leaves him sore and sobbing on the table. Thor shivers, a slave to the drug and his own involuntary pleasure that clashes with his disgust and leaves him with no ability to think.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> comes for him once more, again with a blanket to cover him and soft words to soothe him. The cuffs are released, and </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> helps him to sit.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’ll... I’ll fight better...” Thor whispers the promises Midnight didn’t give him the time to spill. “I’ll do better...”</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I know,” </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> soothes, wrapping the blanket around Thor’s naked body and gathering his discarded clothes. “I know you will.”</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>And Thor will. He’ll work harder, and he’ll make </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> proud. He’ll earn the respect of the other Children, and earn his place here.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>--</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Midnight and the other Children teach with an iron fist. They do not hand out praise; they only demand more repetitions until Thor achieves what they deem is perfection. They have no mercy to give, but Thor doesn’t want any. He wants to learn, and he wants to be the best he can be.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The Children have no problem with hurting him when they fight, but Thor can take a beating. He endures their brutality, and it’s really not that different to how he learned back on </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Asgard</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>, so what’s the issue? To learn, you have to try as hard as you can, which sometimes means taking a hit or two.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The difference is that instead of Odin on the sidelines, he has </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> now, and </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> has pride for his improvements. </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> praises him for his abilities, and for his resilience. And when Thor doesn’t do well enough, and Midnight takes him into that cell, Thanos always comes to bring him out again.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Midnight always brings him into that room when he’s underperformed. Thor can always tell when she’s about to come for him, because she’ll lick her lips. That’s what seals his fate, her tongue swiping out and her eyes full of hunger. The only thing he can do is wait for her to pick her time, pull out her injector, and drug him to the point where he can’t coordinate his thoughts or his body. She does it after missions, if he makes a mistake or doesn’t work quickly enough. She does it after training if he hasn’t learned well enough. Thor wonders if the other three Children will one day show up to participate, but they never do. It’s just him, Midnight, and that cold, hard table in an empty cell. Sometimes he’s bruised or a little cut up from training or a mission, and she always takes full advantage of that, pressing on wounds old and new to make him dance for her.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Thor doesn’t heal as fast as he used to, without </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Asgard’s</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> soil to bolster him, and without his hammer. That’s alright. It’s a small price to pay. He doesn’t need his hammer anymore, and he doubts it would come if he called it. </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>So</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> he forgets about Mjolnir, and moves on. He’s too stained by what Midnight has done to him for it to answer his call again, but he’s ‘worthy’ in the eyes of Thanos. That’s enough for him.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>--</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor lays on his back in his room, the phonograph safely stored in the corner, as he waits for Midnight to arrive. Steve’s left again, which means she’ll be back soon. He can’t know when, so he just has to wait in his room until she does. She won’t tarnish anywhere else in this house. He won’t let her have anything more than this room. It’s bad enough that she comes in through Steve’s bedroom window.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve knows something is wrong. Even though he comes home time and time again to find Thor suffering through the aftermath of Midnight’s drug and ministrations, he never tires of offering comfort. Thor always hopes that Midnight will visit sooner rather than later, so he has time to recover and make dinner in time for Steve’s return. When she takes her time, he barely eats, barely moves from his room. When she leaves, he struggles to eat and take care of himself then, too.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sometimes Steve comes home a day or two after, sometimes mere hours. Thor does his best to gather himself, but so </span>
  <span>far</span>
  <span> the only evidence he’s managed to hide is the physical. The washing machine is usually on when Steve gets home, and if Thor’s not in the shower, then he’s recently had one. Thor quickly </span>
  <span>abandoned</span>
  <span> trying to pretend he’s alright, and now he falls right into Steve’s arms when the soldier opens them. They sleep on the couch together every night, even when Steve’s sore and bruised. It’s safe here, in Steve’s warm grip, and very comfortable. Thor likes to sleep on his stomach slightly propped on Steve’s chest. It’s easier to breathe that way, with his own weight </span>
  <span>pressing</span>
  <span> into his chest.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve thinks he’s getting panic attacks. Steve wants him to talk. Steve’s right, but Thor doesn’t know what to say. It’s not going to go well if he tries to explain himself. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Someone sneaks into your house when you leave. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Besides, Steve shouldn’t have to worry about Thor. He’s working, and work </span>
  <span>makes</span>
  <span> him happy. It’s good for him.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor worries about Steve, though. Thor still comes to team meetings (Steve wants to go, and Thor doesn’t want to be alone for fear that Midnight will come for a visit, and he won’t have the time to clean up before the soldier gets home), and the others don’t seem to take home the same amount of damage that Steve does. Of course, everything is relative: Steve heals very quickly, and the injuries he acquires are never serious as far as Thor can tell. And he checks as best he can. He always checks the bathroom garbage can for evidence of what’s been used from the first-aid, and he observes Steve without the soldier realizing to gauge if he’s hiding anything. Steve won’t admit if he’s hurting, so Thor has to gauge it and try not to put pressure on anything the soldier won’t own up to. Steve doesn’t express his own needs that well. He doesn’t ask to change their usual sleeping routine, even when it’s clear that his ribs took a beating last mission. That means it’s up to Thor to keep an eye on those sorts of things, and change their sleeping arrangement on his own. He can’t stand to be on the bottom, but if he sits up, Steve will lean against him, and they can sleep like that.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve will always heal in a day or two maximum, and be ready to go for the next mission. He always leaves with a hug and a smile, promising to be careful and return as fast as he can. He always asks Thor to take care of himself, and to call if he needs it. Thor has a phone now, which he hasn’t found the courage to use. Steve doesn’t need to be disturbed on his missions.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s nice just to have the device. Thor keeps it under his pillow while he waits for Midnight to arrive, and it gives him some peace. As much as can be given, at least. He likes to lie on just one pillow so the phone presses through into his head, giving him something to focus on while Midnight takes him. When she makes him arch, he digs his skull into the hard rectangle and does his best to think about how nice it’ll be to be wrapped up in Steve’s arms when the soldier gets home.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wishes he had the strength to speak more. Once he recovers as much as he can from Midnight’s sessions, he struggles to speak even as much as he was before she started paying him visits. Concern for Steve usually brings a few words out of him, ‘how are you’s and ‘are you hurt?’s.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m alright, thank you” Steve will always say, with a reassuring smile, “and I’m fine.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sometimes Thor has the time to make dinner after he’s recovered enough to walk in a straight line and stop shaking, while others Steve helps him. Sometimes, they just order take-out and lounge on the sofa. In the morning, Thor joins Steve for his run. He even accompanies Steve to training with Natasha on their scheduled days. It’s actually enjoyable to watch from a corner as the spy teaches Steve everything she knows. Both of them are impressive.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve’s beautiful. Thor’s never had the chance to observe him from the sidelines. The soldier is no less agile despite his large frame. He can bend and twist just like the smaller Natasha, and she teaches him how to use his body to the fullest.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>She’s encouraging, and he’s a willing learner. They fight as hard as they can (well, maybe Steve holds back, because he’s capable of snapping her in half with one mis-placed blow), but when it’s over they praise each other. Natasha gives </span>
  <span>constructive</span>
  <span> criticism and a few teasing jabs, while Steve takes it all in good humor and smiles, nodding as he takes her points. He’s quick-witted, and will often quip back.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nice work, Rogers,” Natasha praises, wiping sweat from her forehead. “You’re really coming along. I think you have potential.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve grins and salutes. “I try my best, General. Do you think one day I could be somethin’?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Natasha thinks about it. “If you try hard, maybe. I’ll put in a good word for you at the top.” She tosses him a water bottle.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve salutes again, taking a long drink as he waves her off. Then he turns to Thor and caps his bottle. “</span>
  <span>Wanna</span>
  <span> have a go?” he asks.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor frowns. “Are you sure...?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <span>Sure</span>
  <span> I’m sure,” Steve puts down his bottle and holds out his hands. Thor takes them and the soldier pulls him to his feet. “Come on. I’m sure you could show me a thing or two.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>As I’m sure you could, too.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Thor slides out of his shoes and nudges them beside Steve’s, following his friend onto the mats. He’s not sure he’s ever done this before, taught anyone anything. Not when it comes to fighting, at least. Well, maybe he’s demonstrated a move or two to a younger soldier back on Asgard, but it’s been a while at the very least. “What do you want me to do?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve shrugs. “We could spar, if you want. Or not, that’s okay too. But I’m sure you know some moves that I don’t.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How...” Thor considers how to go about this, wishing he didn’t have to ask for more guidance.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll throw some moves at you, and you respond,” Steve suggests. “Then we can do it again, but slower.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay,” Thor agrees. That sounds alright. He’ll have to be careful not to hurt Steve by accident. A hundred years of brutal training on top of fourteen-hundred more unforgiving years on </span>
  <span>Asgard</span>
  <span> has made his reflexes so fast he hardly has to think when he jumps into battle. What is Steve </span>
  <span>comes</span>
  <span> at him, and he response instinctively? What if he accidentally breaks Steve, or kills him? What if-</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You won’t hurt me,” Steve smiles invitingly, trustingly. Always so trusting. He’s a fool. How can he know that? “You won’t.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor isn’t so sure, but Steve looks eager, so he’ll have to try his best. The soldier squares off, light on the balls of his feet, and Thor takes up his stance too. With hardly a warning, Steve attacks. He comes slower than Thor knows the soldier can move, which gives Thor the chance to think about what he’s doing and not accidentally rip his friend’s arm off. Steve’s body twists, bulging under his snug shirt as he throws a strong, well-aimed punch. Choosing an evasive movement, Thor pivots on his foot and jumps, turning at the hips while keeping his spine parallel with the line of Steve’s shoulders. Thor lands behind the soldier and turns on his foot, starting another spin around one leg as his axis. He grabs under Steve’s armpit and leg with his hands, scooping up the soldier as he turns and throwing him to the ground.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>A fall like that, especially on this padding, won’t hurt the Captain. Steve pops up, a grin on his face. “Wow,” he flicks his messy forelock out of his eyes. “That’s a neat move!”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s done better, and nearly opens his mouth to protest that it’s not his best execution, but Steve looks so elated that he shuts his mouth. Thor flushes a bit and opens it again. “Thanks.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My turn,” Steve’s grinning like a child waiting to open his birthday presents. “You </span>
  <span>gotta</span>
  <span> show me that!”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“O-okay.” Thor pauses for a moment, then he grabs the hem of his sweater and pulls it off determinately, quickly pulling shirts down to cover his belly as the extra layers ride up. He’ll be alright without his sweater. He and Steve make contact all the time. If there’s one fewer layer of fabric separating them, what difference does it make? “Um... stand there,” he points.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve does as he’s told, mirroring the stance Thor held only moments ago and awaiting his next instructions.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor maps out the move in his head. “Perhaps the jump first... Like this,” he pretends the </span>
  <span>fist</span>
  <span> is flying at him and jumps, turning around his own spine which is roughly at shoulder-height, and using the force of his hips to fling his legs in a circle and rotate his whole body in a neat spin. He lands lightly. That’s step one.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve tries it, and he’s so naturally strong and acrobatic that he almost nails it on the first go. The soldier spins like a dancer and lands lightly beside Thor, looking over for approval.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>There’s a young smile on his face. It’s dazzling and </span>
  <span>distracting</span>
  <span>, and does something very odd to Thor’s heart. He thinks back to the old black-and-white photos in the apartment, to the long-lost youth of that young man who physically hasn’t changed one bit. That </span>
  <span>glow</span>
  <span> is back, and it’s </span>
  <span>even brighter</span>
  <span> in full color, in person. Thor realizes he’s staring. “One more time,” he suggests. He wants to see Steve do that again.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve obliges, taking his stance and replicating the jump-spin with more confidence this time. He nails it.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, next,” Thor invites Steve to come closer, backing up so the soldier is standing behind him. He takes Steve’s wrist and tucks the hand under his armpit, then bends down and guides Steve’s other hand against his inner thigh midway down. A shiver runs down his spine, and he’s not sure if it’s discomfort or pleasure, so he overrules it with reason and ignores it. Steve’s not going to hurt him. “You’ve just finished the first jump,” he instructs. “Now the second. It may be hard without the momentum...”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve’s strong enough to lift Thor’s dead-weight, even at an angle like this. He slides his hands away only so he can ease in again as if finishing the first spin, picking up Thor’s weight and turning a second time. It lacks the speed it should, but for the angle and direction of movement, it’s good. Thor tries not to widen his eyes too much as Steve picks him up, spins him around, and throws him into the mats.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How was that?” Steve immediately looms over him, holding out his hands.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good,” Thor takes them and stands, smoothing down his many shirts. “Perhaps again? Slowly, from start to finish.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve’s up for it, and they take their stances. When both of them are ready, Thor mimics a slow punch, and Steve jumps over his arm as practiced. The soldier lands behind, his hands grab onto the right areas, and Thor is once again lifted right off the ground, turned in a circle, and dropped back down with a grunt from each of them.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s good, but not perfect. Thor demonstrates the move again, performing it on Steve so the soldier can mimic the movements. Then they reset, and Steve tries once more. It’s much better, and he’s adding some speed. They go again, and again, Steve’s determination and stamina holding up as he strives for perfection. He looks the happiest Thor’s ever seen him.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Finally, they wrap up. Steve’s sweaty, and they’re both hungry for breakfast. It’s already 8am.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>They walk home, like they do when Thor comes along. Thor’s considering suggesting they take the bike next time. Maybe he won’t mind sliding on the back so much now that he and Steve sleep basically on top of each other now. Steve hops right into the shower the second they get in, and Thor goes to start making breakfast while he waits.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He needs to tell Steve </span>
  <em>
    <span>something...</span>
  </em>
  <span> Maybe not the whole story, but at least a little. He swallows, mouth dry at the thought alone. Steve deserves to have some answers, and Thor’s starting to feel like it might help to give them, as hard as it will be. He trusts Steve. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I trust you.</span>
  </em>
  <span> That is an undeniable fact. And trusting Steve means taking to him. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I can do it. Courage.</span>
  </em>
  <span> What would Steve do to him? Nothing. Steve won’t be angry. Steve’s never been angry. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He doesn’t know. He has no idea what I’ve brought into his home. Maybe he will be.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Thor shakes his head as he stirs the eggs, fighting fear from letting him believe that Steve is that sort of person. Steve is kind and understanding. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>won’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> be angry. </span>
  <em>
    <span>But he won’t look at me the same...</span>
  </em>
  <span> He’s happy the way things are. It would be devastating to ruin it. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I don’t need to tell him exactly that. I can tell him something else instead. That I see her in my dreams when I’m alone.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>How? How does he go about doing this? Thor bites his lip as he butters some toast and slides scrambled eggs on top, splitting it between two plates. By the time everything is ready, Steve’s all done. He emerges with damp, spiky hair, dressed in jeans and a fresh shirt, smiling.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks,” he sits down and takes the cutlery passed to him, observing the meal before him.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor nods and sits too. “Steve...?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah?” Steve looks up, his smile falling into concern when he sets eyes on Thor’s apprehensive expression. “What’s wrong?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I need to tell you something.” Fear is already making his body shake and his words stutter.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve’s frown deepens further with worry. He opens his mouth, but his cell phone rings where he left it on the coffee table. “Sorry,” he pushes out his chair and runs for it, picking it up. “Hello?” There’s only one person who calls him.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor peers around to watch, forgetting the words he was building up.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve’s expression becomes one of urgency. “Okay... what time? …. alright... okay, I’ll be there.” He hangs up and looks up, running back to the table and sitting. “Sorry, Fury just called. There’s an emergency a few miles out to sea. Terrorist ship attacked the civilian vessel and took hostages.” He pushes eggs into his mouth.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor frowns and gets up. “I’ll get your stuff.” He runs for the bedroom and grabs both of Steve’s bags, carrying them out to the living room. He returns to hover by the table.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks,” Steve gets back to work on his breakfast. “I </span>
  <span>got ten</span>
  <span> minutes before Fury picks me up.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor sits to work on his own too.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m so sorry,” Steve stands up and slides his plat onto the counter, apologetic. “You can tell me now, if you like...”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Later,” Thor shakes his head. “It’s alright.” He manages a reassuring smile. Now’s a bad time for Steve to be worried about him. “Focus on the mission.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I will,” Steve smiles, opening his arms and darting around the table. Thor strides to meet him, and they open their arms at the same time to share a tight hug.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Be safe,” Thor orders.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Always do my best,” Steve smiles ruefully. “You’ll be okay?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor nods with a smile of his own, and it’s enough to convince Steve. Reluctantly, they pull away and the soldier picks up his bags. “We’ll talk when I get back,” he promises. “I’m so sorry.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nothing to be sorry for,” Thor shakes his head. “Go.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve goes, rushing into the elevator and setting down one bag to wave goodbye. When the door slides shut, Thor shuts the apartment door and runs to the window, searching the curb for one of SHIELD’s black SUVs. He spots one, and sure enough Steve jogs out of the building and up to the doors. He throws his stuff into the back seat, climbs into the passenger door, and the vehicle drives away.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor sighs and slumps back to the kitchen. There’s nothing to do now but wash the dishes, and wait.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>--</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Midnight arrives later that day, and she finds Thor on his bed as usual, the duvets smoothed out over the sheets to protect the mattress underneath, and the pillows pushed back. She likes to come in and find him there waiting, and she eagerly pounces on him the second the door opens. In a few hungry swipes, both of them are naked, the drug is injected, and there’s nothing for him to do but try to make it through this.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>It hurts. She isn’t kind to him, doing what she must for her pleasure alone, as she always has. And it’s her pleasure to make him writhe. The only way to do that, is with pain. On a scale, the pain she inflicts isn’t beyond what he can handle, but with the drug he’s not able to control himself. The drug removes his ability to condition his mind to tolerate what’s being done, and though it does relax his body, it does nothing to dampen the sensations of what’s happening.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Your pretty friend is distracting you,” she grabs his throat and pushes her fingers in behind his jaw. “You must work faster.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He is. He’s doing his best to learn what he can about the others, but earning trust takes time. He needs Steve and his friends to trust him so he can locate the tesseract. How long after they suspect him will they call Loki back? Midnight must know that.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Or are you stalling?” she lets go of his throat and pushes her hand up his forehead, aggressively grabbing a chunk of hair while she presses on the joint of his upper thigh. Thor can’t help but try and wrench away from the pressure, but it only serves her, as always. She shudders with pleasure.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor can’t speak, so he doesn’t try. He just lets her say what she has to while he shoves his head into his pillow so the phone can dig through. Steve’s number is in that phone. If Thor called, and Steve picked up, Steve’s voice would come through. Steve would be here with him.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Finally, Midnight is satisfied, and she leaves him to shiver through a panic attack alone in his room. But that too passes, and Thor gets up so he can clean the laundry and himself. He should have lots of time to recover before Steve gets back, which is good because there are bruises on his neck. He can see them even in the blurry patch of mirror not fogged up from his shower.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor turns on the phonograph and makes his bed with fresh sheets. He sets his phone where he can see it. With the drug and Midnight’s treatment still so fresh, he has no desire to eat, and no energy to move. If he rests, he might feel well enough to play some games and pass the time before Steve comes home. Thor manages to wrap a cold cloth around his neck before huddling under his blankets next to the phonograph. The music is the only thing keeping him from slipping into a nightmare, or another panic attack.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>When Thor wakes up from his light doze, it’s the next morning. He gets up and walks to the living room, forgoing breakfast altogether and instead turning on the game console. He curls up under the blankets left on the couch, picks up his remote, and starts to play.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s not the same alone, but it’s something, at least. The sounds are comforting, tied only to good times spent right here alongside Steve, or at Stark Tower. Thor plays a few games to help bring himself back, and when he feels well enough, he gets up to plan out a meal.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s hard to know exactly when Steve will return. Usually his estimates are pretty accurate, but there can be a day either side that he could be back on instead. Thor tries to prep a meal that will cook fast instead of have a hot one ready. Hunger calls him to eat something while he’s looking through recipes and what they have in the fridge, so he has a banana and keeps going. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>With dinner prepped and ready to throw in the oven, Thor goes back to the couch and lays down, picking up the book he left there. He’s still tired despite his long nap last night, and can’t be bothered to eat. All he can do is will the hours to pass by faster.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Night crawls closer, and when the clock hits 12, Thor is about to nod off. Heavy footsteps carry up the steps, and a </span>
  <span>key slides</span>
  <span> in the lock with a familiar click. Thor bolts upright and throws off the blankets, running to meet Steve at the door.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve limps inside and shuts the door behind him, bent and holding his arm close to his body. He drops his bags wearily, pale under the soot all over his face. He’s wearing a dark jacket over a wrinkled shirt, and Thor can’t see what’s wrong. He leaps forward for the bags, and hurries them to the soldier’s bedroom. “I’ll get dinner ready,” he says. Steve follows slowly, nodding gratefully. He looks like he’s been fighting non-stop since he left yesterday morning.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor slides a tray of sandwiches into the oven. He can hear Steve in the bathroom, the tap running and the soldier making pained noises that the water doesn’t mask. Worried, Thor creeps back to his bedroom and sits on his bed to listen. Maybe he should do something, make sure Steve’s alright. He’s alright, isn’t he...? The Captain is tough and self-sufficient. He doesn’t need Thor’s help.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The water shuts off, and Thor holds his breath. He can hear Steve panting and stumbling for the bathroom door. Steve comes closer, and knocks on the door. Thor jumps a little, and is already on his feet before the soldier starts to speak. “Thor...?” he sounds winded. “Are you-”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor pulls the door open. Steve stands there in his shirt, his arm still held against his chest as still as he can manage. Most of the dirt has been scrubbed from his face, and he’s white as a sheet underneath. Sweat is beading on his forehead, and he’s in pain. Thor searches, but he can’t see any evidence of an injury. There are some smears of blood on the shirt, but nothing that indicates a bleeding wound beneath. “Steve...” he frowns. “What’s wrong? Are you alright?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There’s a bullet in my back,” Steve grabs the door frame for support, but Thor takes the arm and starts to pull the soldier backward into his room. “</span>
  <span>Agh</span>
  <span>,” Steve shudders and breathes a hard sigh. “I tried to get it out, but I can’t...” </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve stumbles forward, and Thor catches him, drawing the soldier into his chest to look at his back. Sure enough, there’s a thick bloody splotch gluing the shirt to Steve’s back, around his shoulder. Thor pulls Steve’s arm across his shoulders and guides the soldier into the room, sitting him on the chair by the little table.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I need-”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll get it out,” Thor nods. “Shh. Just sit here a moment.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve got shot. It’s been a long time since Thor treated injuries on anyone but himself. He bites his lip as he runs into the hallway for supplies. “First-aid’s in the bathroom,” Steve’s calling, but Thor already has the white box tucked under his arm and is pulling towels out of the closet. He grabs some washcloths too, and fills a bowl from the kitchen with water.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Everything goes by the bed. Thor moves the pillows and the phonograph out of the way, spreading a towel over the duvet. Then he gets up and walks to the chair. Before he has to ask, Steve starts to fight with his shirt, but the onset of shock, not to mention pain, is ruining his coordination. Thor dives in to help, drawing the shirt up and over Steve’s head. He gets the soldier’s good arm through first, and pulls the shirt off the other without disturbing it. Steve’s torso is littered with bruises and sooty stains.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What happened?” Thor asks, wrapping his arm around Steve’s naked back to help him walk over to the bed. </span>
  <span>Ideally</span>
  <span> he would keep Steve out of this tainted room, but there’s no better place to do this. The lighting is second best only to the kitchen, and Thor isn’t spreading Steve across the hard kitchen table.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It was a disaster,” Steve moans, sinking down only as fast as Thor will let him.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is everyone alright?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve shakes his head, limp with defeat. “Lost a few civilians. We weren’t fast enough.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You did what you could,” Thor reassures, easing Steve onto his front and pushing a pillow under his belly to take the strain off his spine. There’s a big swollen hole in Steve’s back, near the shoulder blade. No wonder it’s hurting his arm so much. The smallest movement probably disturbs that bullet still inside.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Tried so hard,” Steve murmurs, shivering. “Couldn’t save’em all...”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No-one could have,” Thor reassures. “You can only do what you can.” He dips a cloth into his water and wrings it out, trying to clean away some of the blood so he can see the wound better. Steve moans softly, and Thor dabs more gently. This thing just won’t stop bleeding. He’s going to have to put some pressure on it and stop the flow so he can actually find the bullet in this mess. “Do you have anything for the pain?” It’s going to hurt a lot.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Won’t work...” Steve moans again, biting his lip to try to contain it. “S’serum. Nothin’ works. Just... just do it.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>There is no medicine that would help? Steve’s going to have to suffer through this without anything to lessen the pain. Thor bites his lip and stares at the bloody hole. That bullet needs to come out. If the bleeding hasn’t stopped after all this time, then it must keep disturbing the source. Once it’s out, the bleeding will stop, but by the looks of </span>
  <span>it</span>
  <span> Steve’s bled a fair bit already. “Do you not have doctors?” Thor asks. “</span>
  <span>Surely</span>
  <span> they would have something...”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <span>Nothin</span>
  <span>’,” Steve </span>
  <span>slurrs</span>
  <span>. “Don’t </span>
  <span>want’em</span>
  <span> to touch me. Put me in a hospital...”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Did you not consider you may belong in one?” Thor smiles a little, wringing out the cloth and cleaning up the blood around the wound as best he can. He’ll deal with the dried streaks down Steve’s arm and lower back once the wound is covered.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t like’em,” Steve shivers, his muscles flexing as Thor irritates the tender hole. “You don’t have to help if you don’t want... I can do it...”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I doubt that,” Thor can’t help his smile. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Foolish. I knew you were a moron.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Steve’s already tried to get the bullet out himself, and clearly it hasn’t worked. How could it, at that angle? “It’s alright, I don’t mind. Be still.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve grabs the mattress with his good arm and squeezes. “S-sorry...”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s alright.” Thor sets down the cloth and grabs a dry one, folding it. He’s going to have to apply some pressure, and this isn’t going to be fun for either of them. There has to be something he can do to ease Steve’s suffering. “Breathe,” he murmurs, thinking as hard as he can. If the pain can’t be taken away, then maybe he can get Steve’s mind off of it. “Why do you not like hospitals?” If Steve talks about that, Thor might learn a thing or two he shouldn’t do.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Always... smells like rubbin’ alcohol,” Steve mumbles into the pillow. Thor brings the cloth closer and pushes it into the wound. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He winces as Steve cries out. “Go on,” he urges. “Breathe, and tell me.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Too clinical,” Steve shudders, possibly from memory as well as pain. He hisses through clenched teeth and moans again before trying to gather himself. “Too... ah... cold. And I’ve been in too many.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“In the war?” Thor can imagine Steve leaping in front of ever bullet he can find.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“N-no,” Steve shakes his head. “In... in the Depression. Was a sick kid. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Real</span>
  </em>
  <span> sick.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>That’s an understandable reason. Thor nods in commiseration, keeping up the pressure. “Your friend in the photograph. Tell me of him.” Words are coming easier than they ever have.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“B-Bucky?” Steve groans and catches his breath again, swallowing roughly. “B-best friend I ever had.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>One who must have died in the war, or while Steve was in the ice. Humans don’t live that long. Thor wonders if he shouldn’t have asked.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve keeps going </span>
  <span>though</span>
  <span>. “Took </span>
  <span>care’a’me</span>
  <span> even when I d-didn't want it. </span>
  <span>Shoulda</span>
  <span> left m-my stubborn ass, but he didn’t. Idiot...”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Perhaps,” Thor agrees. “Perhaps you and he are not so different.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Callin’... callin’ me stupid?” Steve turns his head enough that he can look up at Thor. He’s still white and borderline </span>
  <span>delirious</span>
  <span> with the pain and blood loss, but there’s a faint smile on his lips.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor smiles back. “Perhaps. You’re foolish enough to come home with a bullet in you and blood gushing out of you instead of seeking medical help.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“S’fair,” Steve slumps, but quickly tenses again. “But I... ah... I trus’you.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s different hearing it aloud. Thor stalls. Steve is laying here prone beneath him, bleeding and weak, but he’s come to Thor for help rather than seek out those of his people who are trained to deal with this sort of thing. Albeit, Steve did try to handle it himself, but still. Steve would rather be here than </span>
  <span>there</span>
  <span>, even if some part of that may be rooted in childhood suffering.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor pulls away the cloth, and the bleeding has stopped. He knows it will start up again once he moves the bullet, but at least he has a chance of cleaning up the wound so he can see properly.  He gently dabs away the blood and opens the first-aid kit. It’s very well stocked, full of things no normal person should need.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks...” Steve murmurs. “Take... Y’take good care’a me.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>And you let me stay in your house. You feed me and take me with you, and you make me hot drinks when I don’t feel well. Do your people not have a saying about pots and kettles? </span>
  </em>
  <span>It seems at least somewhat relevant. Thor can only shake his head incredulously, smiling softly and landing his hand on the back of Steve’s head. “A small thing,” he says instead. “Are you ready? You may not be so grateful when I continue.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Y’could knock me in the head...” Steve huffs a breathless chuckle. “Knock me out...”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not going to do that,” Thor smiles, pulling a pair of tweezers out of the kit and tearing open the wrapper. He holds the compress in his other hand and stares into the gruesome wound.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <span>M’ready</span>
  <span>, then,” Steve sighs, going as limp as he can.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I will be fast,” Thor promises. He takes Steve’s arm and gently moves it where he needs to so the bone shifts out of the way. Steve moans again, but </span>
  <span>lets</span>
  <span> himself be moved as best he can. His muscles involuntarily resist, but Thor is so much stronger that they don’t pose an issue. He can see the bullet now, nestled in muscle. “Breathe...” he soothes, and goes in.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve pushes his face into the sheets and quivers as Thor digs into his back for the bullet. It’s big, but it’s also stuck, and the second he disturbs it the blood wells up again. The pain makes Steve writhe, and though Thor doesn’t want to, he has to hold the soldier down. While he wrestles the bullet with one hand, he pushes Steve’s shoulders down with the other, and tries not to think too much about Steve’s muffled cries. The sooner this is over the better.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The bullet finally comes free, followed by a gush of blood. Thor drops the bullet onto the towel and pushes the cloth over the hole. “It’s done!” he breathes. “Steve, it’s out.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve sobs with relief, noticeably less pained than before. Thor sighs a little too, keeping up the pressure until the bleeding stops once more.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Inside the first-aid are some suture kits. When Thor picks the right size and opens the package, he finds dissolving thread inside. With Steve’s healing rate, having to cut out stitches would likely be irritating. Thor pulls the needle out with a fresh pair of tweezers and approaches the skin. It’s warm and angry, but the needle slides right through. Steve gasps, but keeps himself still so Thor can safely thread the hole closed. It doesn’t take long, even though the opening is relatively large. Thor glances at the bullet; it’s big as far as bullets go, and smashed pretty badly. It must have lost too much momentum going through Steve’s suit to come out the other side of the soldier. Thor ties the last stitch and cuts the thread, safely leaving the needle in the packaging.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He helps Steve to sit, and Steve props his arm on his knee so Thor can wrap the bandage under it. Thor pads generous gauze over the hole first, and wraps more around Steve’s back. The skin around the wound is inflamed and bruised, but at least it’s not bleeding so much anymore. Steve’s healing should stop that last persistent trickle in a few minutes. Still, Thor wraps the bandage without holding back. He loops it over Steve’s shoulder to fully cover the wound until finally he’s satisfied, and tapes down the end.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve looks on the verge of passing out, but he’s coming back from it now that he’s not gushing vital fluids, still white but breathing better and his expression isn’t so strained. “Thanks...” he looks up and wipes his eyes dry.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor smiles back and grabs Steve’s ruined shirt, taking the soldier’s arm and pushing it into his chest. “Of course.” He ties Steve’s arm in a sling. “I’ll bring you something to eat, then you should sleep.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <span>M’alright</span>
  <span>,” Steve promises, pushing his other arm into the mattress.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No. Rest,” Thor shakes his head. He rolls the towel flecked with blood out of the way and rearranges the pillows, propping them up and easing Steve to lie against them. “You lost a lot of blood.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay.” Steve submits with a weary smile, wincing as his back sinks into the pillows. “Okay. Thanks.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll be right back,” Thor promises, sliding off Steve’s shoes and drawing the blankets over him. “Don’t move.” This may be the bed where Midnight takes him, a place where Steve does not belong, but right now Steve needs to lie down, and the couch or the soldier’s own bed are too easy to get out of. Here, Thor can more easily keep the soldier down, and sit close beside him.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dinner is almost cooked. Thor finds a tray in the cupboard and stacks some plates on it. He fills two glasses with water and starts a pot of coffee, and when the sandwiches come </span>
  <span>out,</span>
  <span> he slices them in half and arranges them on a plate. Thor carries the tray and some extra pillows to the bedroom, propping Steve a little higher. He pushes a pillow under Steve’s shoulder, tipping him sideways a few degrees to take some pressure off his wound. When Steve is sitting comfortably, Thor puts a plate in his lap and pushes some grilled sandwiches onto it.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Drink,” he orders, handing over a glass and making sure Steve has a good grip on it before letting go.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve drinks. There’s soot in his hair, wildly sticking up and damp with sweat, but there’s a bit of color ebbing tentatively into his cheeks, and he looks comfortable. Dazed, but comfortable.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you alright?” Thor asks, sitting as close as he can to the bed.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Steve smiles drowsily. “Yeah, m’good.” There’s sadness lingering in his eyes, but for now he seems alright.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>They eat together, Steve hungry from almost 48 hours without food, and Thor about the same. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Didn’t get a chance to stop,” Steve admits, visibly fighting back the urge to churn through his food a lot faster. “Was just... chaos.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are the others alright?” Thor asks.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve nods and finishes another piece of sandwich. “A bit bruised. But they’re alright.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>That’s good. Thor’s not happy that Steve got hurt, but he’s </span>
  <span>glad</span>
  <span> the others are okay. Steve will heal. A bit of time, and he’ll be good as new.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>For now though, Steve’s exhausted. He eats as much as he can and has another sip of water at Thor’s prompting, then he lets his head flop back and starts to shut his eyes. Thor draws the blankets to his chest and presses the back of his hand against his friend’s forehead. It’s warm, but not </span>
  <span>worryingly</span>
  <span> so. Steve can’t get sick anyway. It must just be his body working hard to heal itself.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>In seconds, Steve is asleep. Thor finishes his last bite of sandwich and cleans up, gathering all the dishes and dressing supplies. The first-aid kit goes back into the bathroom cabinet, the wrappers in the garbage, and the dishes in the sink. Thor scrubs the bloody </span>
  <span>cloths</span>
  <span> in the sink before sticking them in the washing machine with some strong detergent. When everything is dealt with, he returns to his bedroom, turning off the light and sitting on the floor by the bed. It’s very strange to sit vigil right at Steve’s side instead of outside the door as he was before. It’s different still to when he and Steve sleep tangled up together on the couch, because this time Steve’s hurt, and Thor is deliberately keeping watch. This time he’s been invited to do so.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor crosses his legs and rests his palm across Steve’s forehead protectively. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’ll take care of you.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Now more than ever, more than he has since the farm, he feels like himself.</span>
  
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Chapter 16</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>*warning* this should be the last of the rape scenes. there are a couple, similar to the last. there's also a torture scene, which is brief and non-descriptive.</p><p>Is this the last straw?</p><p>thank you for your continued support &lt;33</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Thor ends up dozing, though he doesn’t mean to. It’s been a long couple of days for him, too, ones without any deep and regenerative sleep. Steve wakes him up though, jolting him from his light slumber with soft whimpers and muttered words. He’s dreaming, expression creased in discomfort. Thor unfolds his arms in a flash and sits forward, grabbing the hand resting across Steve’s belly and giving it a squeeze.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve turns his head on the pillow, distressed. His body jumps and his eyelids flicker as if he’s reacting to sudden bangs. “Shh,” Thor soothes. Usually he’s outside the door instead of right by the bed when Steve gets his nightmares. It’s quite different being right next to the soldier, but he doesn’t hesitate to reach out and place his other hand across Steve’s forehead. It’s damp with sweat.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>With a short gasp, Steve jolts awake, his leg lifting as he tries to lever himself sitting instinctively. Thor holds him down and pushes him back into the pillows. Bright eyes shimmer up at him in the dim light. “Thor...?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Bad dreams?” Thor smiles consolingly, keeping his hands where they are.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <span>S’nothin</span>
  <span>’,” Steve slides his hand from under Thor’s so he can rub his eyes, but he promptly puts it back, and Thor squeezes it tightly. “Just a bit anxious. Get like </span>
  <span>that</span>
  <span> after a mission sometimes.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I know.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Thor also knows what to do: he draws back his hands and pulls the phonograph closer, winding it up and setting the needle. “Sleep,” he lays his hand back over Steve’s forehead. “I will be here.” Rest is what Steve needs most. Some deep, healing sleep.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve’s already relaxing again, mumbling something of a weary agreement while his eyelids slide shut. Thor settles again, compelled to stroke back Steve’s thick forelock with a tender hand. He decides he prefers to be here rather than silently lurking in the hall outside the door. Yes, this is better. He doesn’t mind sitting at all.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The rest of the night passes peacefully. Thor wakes up on his side on the floor, his arm draped over Steve’s belly and still holding the soldier’s hand. He groans and sits, rubbing his eyes. The clock on the wall says its only just 6am. A late start. Thor stretches and rolls to his feet, padding to the door and flipping the light switch. Steve is deeply asleep. He hasn’t moved an inch, aside from his head which is flopped to one side, his bangs flipped back from his forehead. His color is vastly improved, a shade paler than normal, but healthy. His heart rate and respirations are good when Thor takes a close listen. He’s truly alright. Thor smiles to himself and opens the door, bringing the first-aid kit into the kitchen. It goes on the table, and he pulls out some supplies to make breakfast.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve wakes before the eggs are in the pan, yawning loudly from the bedroom. Thor shuts the stove back off and jogs down the hallway. He’s in the room and at Steve’s side before his friend can push himself sitting.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Breakfast?” Thor offers, resting a hand on Steve’s shoulder to hold him against the pillows.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The soldier rubs his eyes and blinks them clear. “That’d be great,” he smiles.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor doesn’t give him a chance to say anything else, guiding Steve’s arm across his shoulders and hoisting him smoothly up in one go. Steve lands his feet on the ground and gets his legs under him. He seems stable, but Thor helps him out of the room anyway, and doesn’t let go until they’re by the table. Steve sits with a wince, holding his shoulder.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“How is it?” Thor asks, turning the stove back on and dropping bread into the toaster. He frowns at Steve’s arm.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Better,” Steve smiles. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>A lot</span>
  </em>
  <span> better. Still sore though. </span>
  <span>Should be fine tomorrow.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Those muscles </span>
  <em>
    <span>must</span>
  </em>
  <span> be sore. Thor nods in sympathy and starts cracking eggs. “Can I look at it?” Just in case... The bandage is spotless, but Thor still wants to check.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure,” Steve agrees. At least he hasn’t tried to get up and help.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“After breakfast,” Thor confirms, stirring the eggs.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve’s appetite sure is healthy; he eats everything, and Thor’s given him more than usual. Good, that means he’s healing. Thor finishes and carries some clean clothes from the soldier’s room, placing them on the table. Steve turns in his chair and faces his back to Thor, leaning forward a little. He pushes his plate out of the way and pulls his sling over his head, resting his arm on the table. Thor stands over him and cuts the bandage off. Good light provides a clear view of the wound once all the dressings fall away. Steve’s skin has already absorbed most of the stitches and broken them down enough that Thor can pluck the last pieces out. The hole is completely sealed, and the surrounding skin looks far less angry. Those bruises have faded to deep yellows and browns already, as if days of healing have occurred. It’s rather miraculous.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>It’s hardly necessary, but Thor tapes some gauze in place anyway. He helps Steve into a clean shirt and sweater, repositioning Steve’s sore arm and tucking it back in the sling.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks,” Steve flexes his fist and stands up with support from the table. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor stands in his way before he can walk off. “Steve...?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?” Steve looks up, mirroring Thor’s own worried frown.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“If you needed it, would you go to the hospital?” Thor doesn’t mind looking after Steve, but what if Steve gets shot and it’s worse than can be handled with some gauze and a handful of stitches? “If you were hurt worse than today, would you allow your friends to bring you there?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve licks his lips very slowly, holding the gaze. “Yes,” he says quietly. “If I had to. But I won’t.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You can’t know that,” Thor argues.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m confident,” Steve persists. “You’re right, but I’m careful, I promise. Accidents happen.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“They do,” Thor lifts his eyebrows, eyeing Steve’s shoulder. What if that bullet had struck farther in and struck the spine? What if it had burst an artery, and Steve had bled out before making it home? What if it had struck his neck, where the suit doesn’t cover? Even if that bullet had gone into Steve’s shoulder blade, or his collar bone, he’d likely have needed to see a surgeon. Thor doesn’t know the particulars of the serum, but he doesn’t like his odds against shattered bone. That’s not anything Thor knows how to fix. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I will,” Steve sighs. “If something really bad happens, I’ll go. But it won’t. We all look after each other.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll take your word for it,” Thor says, though he knows risk will always be there. It doesn’t matter how much stronger Steve is than his colleagues: he is still a mortal man who can be hurt and killed. But today, he’s alright. Thor pulls Steve into him and gives him a tight squeeze, careful of his tender wound. “I’m very glad you’re alright.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve leans into the embrace and wraps his arm around Thor’s back. “Sorry... I asked a lot of you.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Not at all,” Thor objects. “I’m just glad you’re recovering.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks to you,” Steve pulls away, smiling warmly. “Not sure what I’d have done without you...”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Gone to a hospital, I hope,” Thor lifts his eyebrow. “Or called your other friends.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve chuckles bashfully. “Yeah...”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Go sit,” Thor guides Steve around the table and pushes him toward the sofa. Today’s going to be a lazy one, if he has anything to say about it. Which he does. He has </span>
  <em>
    <span>a lot</span>
  </em>
  <span> to say. Comparatively, at least. The warmth in his body spreads through every pore, every layer of tissue to something more. </span>
  <span>Something  that</span>
  <span> goes beyond his body. It’s anchoring, and it brings him joy he hasn’t felt in decades. There’s nowhere he’d rather be than here.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>All the garbage goes in the garbage can. Thor gives the table a clean and organizes the dishes in the sink as fast as he can. When everything is taken care of, he starts some coffee and goes to join Steve on the sofa.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve is sitting, the old photograph of him and his friend from the war in his hand and a sad, distant expression on his face. His posture is slumped, and he’s staring at the image like he’s looking through a window to a world he can’t get to because the door is locked. There </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> no door back to that world. Thor sits softly beside the soldier, coming in close but leaving an inch of space just in case. With a weary sigh, Steve closes the gap and rests his body against Thor’s. He hands over the photo so he can point at the other man in it. “</span>
  <span>S’Bucky</span>
  <span>,” he explains quietly. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I know, you told me. Do you not remember? </span>
  </em>
  <span>“Died not long before I did.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky: Steve’s childhood friend, someone very dear to the soldier. Thor examines the photo. The two men are completely at ease with each other, friendly and trusting. Life-long partners. Thor tries to imagine what it would be like to sever a bond like that. He can’t imagine how long it would take for that pain to dull. “Did he suffer?” Thor asks quietly. In war, men can die long and painful deaths to wounds that slowly kill them, or they can be taken suddenly by one well-placed blow. Thor has fought in too many battles to count, for </span>
  <span>Thanos</span>
  <span> and for </span>
  <span>Asgard</span>
  <span>, and he has always fought as efficiently as he can. It’s not just about good strategy, trying to kill quickly, but also about honor. Thor doesn’t like killing anyone, regardless of where they stand in relation to him. If he can, he avoids it. With </span>
  <span>Thanos</span>
  <span>, it’s hard, but he does his best.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve shrugs and winces, relaxing his shoulders. “</span>
  <span>Dunno</span>
  <span>,” he replies. “He fell. We never found the body. Maybe he died on impact, or maybe he bled out for hours.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>That’s horrible. Thor loops his arm around Steve’s back, below the bullet wound, and holds him a little bit closer.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I was supposed to protect him,” Steve sighs, and he sounds choked up but dry at the same time, as if he might cry had he not shed all the tears he has for this already. “I reached as far as I could. Can’t help </span>
  <span>thinkin</span>
  <span>’ I </span>
  <span>shoulda</span>
  <span> done better, or jumped after him, or... something. Searched harder, kept him closer in the fight to start with. Keeps me up sometimes.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>It’s frightfully honest. And for an honest man, Steve sure keeps thoughts like these to himself. Thor doesn’t know that much about the soldier, come to think of it. He doesn’t know what makes Steve dream horrible dreams that wake him so violently and have him crying out. “You don’t have to tell me of it,” Thor offers. He doesn’t want Steve to feel obliged to say anything if he’s not comfortable sharing.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve shakes his head. “You asked about him. Last night... Seems fair to tell you about him.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You have no obligations,” Thor objects gently.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve gives him a bleary, worn-down smile. “Well... </span>
  <span>tellin</span>
  <span>’ people how you feel is the </span>
  <span>sorta</span>
  <span> thing you’re supposed to do... Want </span>
  <em>
    <span>somebody</span>
  </em>
  <span> to know... And I trust you.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve’s already said that, last night, but this time the soldier is coherent and not bleeding everywhere. He really means it. Thor’s not sure what to make of that. He hasn’t had a friend in a long time. Is this not too sudden? Shouldn’t Steve hold off a bit more to decide if he truly trusts Thor this much or not? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Look at me. Look at what I am, what I’ve done. I’ve... come very close to murdering you. You would trust a man like me, one who fights for your enemy?</span>
  </em>
  <span> He thinks those words, but even in his head they lack the conviction he was shouting from that glass cage months ago. But he wants Steve’s trust, and he wants to earn it. He wants to be Steve’s friend, even though he’s not sure he deserves it. “Then speak, if you want,” he offers willingly. Steve deserves whatever he can give. Steve deserves </span>
  <em>
    <span>more</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but this is everything he has.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you sure?” Steve looks over hesitantly, worried. “Asked a lot from you already... You already dug a bullet </span>
  <span>outta</span>
  <span> me.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You dug me out of that SHIELD prison, which I would say is a fair bit more difficult. I am certainly larger than a bullet, and your Fury is not quite as soft as skin and muscle.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Steve really doesn’t ask for much, and what he receives he seems reluctant to accept. He’s a wonderful, generous giver, but a terrible, terrible taker. At the very least, Steve can’t stop Thor from cooking for him after missions because the soldier isn’t in the house. He won’t stop Thor now, not if Thor can help it. “Speak,” he urges, and the irony of the statement only hits him after Steve starts to speak. </span>
  <em>
    <span>More hypocrisy than irony, I suppose...</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve smiles and gazes at the photograph. “Sometimes I feel like I </span>
  <span>shoulda</span>
  <span> done better, even though part of me knows I did what I could.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>From the sounds of things, that can be more of a curse than a blessing.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Thor remembers very clearly how unhappy Steve consistently was at the beginning of their living arrangement, even before they’d left the </span>
  <span>helicarrier</span>
  <span>. Steve is a lot happier now.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I know I did what I could, but sometimes I wonder if I could have done more,” Steve shakes his head and wipes his eye, staring determinately at the floor. “Lotta people died yesterday... Maybe if I’d fought harder they’d still be alive. Some of them, at least... How fair is that, that I got to live and they died? That Bucky died? Not any more special than they are... Those people were just </span>
  <span>livin</span>
  <span>’ their lives. Bucky protected me all my life, and he died for it.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>This a reoccurring battle, where Steve fights against his soft heart that will never be satisfied no matter how many people the soldier saves. Steve probably saved countless lives yesterday, and yet he mourns those he couldn’t and wishes he could have done better. There’s guilt there, and it hurts to watch, especially since Thor knows that Steve fought with </span>
  <em>
    <span>everything</span>
  </em>
  <span> he had, and it’s no fault of the Captain that his enemy caused casualties. Thor doesn’t know the details, but if Bucky was that close of a friend, then maybe that’s what the other man wanted, </span>
  <span>to</span>
  <span> give his life for Steve. Steve doesn’t seem to do so well with the idea of other people suffering for him, let alone dying. Those civilians yesterday may not have died </span>
  <em>
    <span>for</span>
  </em>
  <span> him, but they died because he wasn’t fast enough (even though he was as fast as SHIELD summoned him, but logic has little place in the heart), and that’s a similar level of bad.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you happy to be alive?” Thor asks tentatively. He wants Steve to be happy, and he’s not sure what to do if the soldier isn’t. What </span>
  <em>
    <span>can</span>
  </em>
  <span> he do? Call Steve’s friends and tell them? He’s not sure he has the confidence to speak to them, seeing as he’s given about three words total to them. They care about Steve, and they treat him kindly, but... he doesn’t know them, and he gets the feeling they don’t trust him as much as Steve does, no matter how welcoming they are for him to join their gatherings. He doesn’t blame them. It’s smarter not to trust him. And Steve is, as proven, an idiot.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>But to his relief, Steve gives a submissive sigh. “Yeah...” he says, gaining a little confidence. “Yeah, I am. Never really hung out with anyone like I have with you. Not even with Bucky. I mean, we didn’t have video </span>
  <span>games</span>
  <span> back then, but still. It’s different. </span>
  <span>Different’s</span>
  <span> not always bad.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>No, it isn’t, but it can take some getting used to. “I’m glad,” Thor smiles back.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky meant that much to Steve, but now Steve’s here with Thor, and he’s happy. Happy to be here, next to his friend, happy to share these moments along with the many others before: cooking together in the kitchen, playing video games and falling asleep together on the couch, going out for morning runs, and staying close when they visit the team. It’s bewildering, intoxicating. Bucky can never be replaced, and Thor’s not sure he could even if he weren’t tainted. He feels dirty for not returning the favor and telling Steve that the soldier shouldn’t care as much as he does, that he’s staining himself by letting Thor in. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I don’t deserve to be here. You deserve for me to be honest.</span>
  </em>
  <span> If he’s honest, Steve will get rid of him, throw him back to SHIELD, back to his brother, and ultimately back to </span>
  <span>Asgard</span>
  <span>. The thought of </span>
  <span>Thanos</span>
  <span> rescuing him sends an unprecedented shiver down his spine, a shiver of fear. He doesn’t want to trade Steve for </span>
  <span>Thanos</span>
  <span>.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He doesn’t want to trade Steve for </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve gets up to reset the photo on the shelf, looking back. “</span>
  <span>Wanna</span>
  <span> play a game?” he asks. “I’m guessing a run is out of the question...”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Absolutely. No, no running. Steve probably could; he could probably fight, undertake Natasha’s training, and continue like normal if he wanted. His wound is healing at an incredible rate, and it won’t stop just because it’s being jostled a little. </span>
  <span>But,</span>
  <span> it clearly still hurts, and Steve hasn’t moved his arm from the sling if he can help it. The flesh on the outside may be well-sealed, but the muscle on the inside will need a little more time. Steve seems to acknowledge that, even though he’s a little disappointed he can’t work out. Thor shakes his head and pats the space beside him resolutely. Steve is fine to look after himself, probably would have recovered on his own the second that bullet came out, but Thor’s not leaving. He’s going to nurse that wound until it’s gone, and nothing will stop him.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve doesn’t seem to mind that much, even if he’s still apologetic for causing so much hassle. He hasn’t tried to discard the sling and use his arm, even though he’d be able to. He seems content to let his shoulder rest while it recovers. He even plugs in the </span>
  <span>nunchuck</span>
  <span> into the bottom of his remote so he can drive one-handed. It’s a lot harder to drive that way, but the soldier doesn’t complain. He just does his best like he always does, enjoying the company rather than the results. He does get the hang of driving like this, and manages to work his way up the scoreboard.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>When it comes time to make lunch, Steve lets Thor take charge, accepting whatever task is presented to him. Thor wonders if since Steve makes such a mess while he’s in full working order, that the opposite might be true when he’s down an arm. This is not the case: an equal amount of mess is made. They make a lasagna, and Steve manages to get sauce and vegetables on his face, in his hair, and up his arm. He slices some onion, and a piece somehow transfers from his hand to his cheek. How one man can be the peak of human performance, but also a disaster is utterly beyond Thor. Steve is in control of every muscle, can learn battle moves effortlessly, yet he </span>
  <em>
    <span>cannot</span>
  </em>
  <span> do anything in the kitchen without some of it ending up in his hair. Thor sets to cleaning up while their food cooks. Steve appears at his side and opens his mouth, but Thor picks an onion off his forehead and points firmly at the table. Obediently, Steve slinks away and sits, nursing his arm as he smiles to himself.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>--</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Apparently, Steve has a list of movies to watch, to help him catch up. His friends have recently given him a few. Steve suggests they watch something, and Thor agrees. Together, they decide on </span>
  <em>
    <span>Indiana Jones and the Raiders of the Lost </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Ark</span>
  </em>
  <span>. The coffee pot is put on once again, and they sit down to enjoy the movie.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>It turns out to be quite enjoyable, enough that two honed warriors are willing to sit inert on the sofa to watch another. They eat dinner while they start the next movie. When the credits roll, it’s 1am, and Steve’s head is falling onto his shoulder. The Captain is asleep, his mouth hanging lightly open and his expression relaxed like he’s been knocked out cold. He looks very peaceful, too peaceful for Thor to disturb, though he doesn’t plan on getting up anyway. Unfortunately, he has to turn off the light. Thor carefully cradles Steve’s head and shoulder, sliding off the couch and lowering him down. He turns off the TV and all the lights before gathering some bedding. He stuffs a pillow against one couch arm and levers Steve up again so he can slide under and rest the soldier back against his chest. Usually, he doesn’t like to be on his back, and certainly not with anyone on top of him, but this is different. This is consensual. He’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>choosing</span>
  </em>
  <span> to be here, and he’s choosing to be with Steve. And in-turn, Steve’s chosen to be this close to him.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor thinks about how much Steve truly trusts him as he arranges the blankets over them both. He makes sure the soldier is comfortable, and that his arm isn’t being pressed or pulled on, rolling him onto his side a little. Steve huffs and shifts in his sleep, happily pressing one side of his face into Thor’s chest. He reaches up with his good arm over his other shoulder, twitching and going to scratch the wound. It’s probably itchy as the skin regenerates. Thor gently takes Steve’s hand and holds it, reaching with his other and carefully scratching around the gauze pad taped over the soldier’s back. Steve breathes out in pleasure, mumbling something that might be a thank-you. Even asleep, he can’t help but be grateful. Thor smiles tucks the blanket around both of them. He rests his hand against the back of Steve’s head and pushes his cheek into Steve’s soft, strawberry-with-hints-of-onion-smelling hair. Even if he’s the one supporting Steve, Thor feels safe. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Steve</span>
  </em>
  <span> is safe. Steve protects him even if he doesn’t know it, even if he’s drooling a little.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>--</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve showers the next morning, and he emerges topless so he can be examined. It’s like the wound on his back is being absorbed into the skin, a promise that once again, it will soon be flawless. The mark is almost smooth, only a little bit raised and slightly tender. Thor rubs his thumb very carefully over it to feel for unnatural heat, but everything is fine. Shoulder movement is still interfering with the repairing internal damage, but even that is so reduced that Steve can move his arm without causing himself too much pain. By his movement (because Steve can school his expressions well enough that they aren’t always informative), </span>
  <span>it</span>
  <span> likely only pains him a little. A twinge here and there if he’s not gentle. It’s remarkable.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>They go for their run, eat breakfast, Steve showers again, and they start their day. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re doin’ better,” Steve beams at him like the sun, his hair glowing brightly in sunlight that’s almost as bright streaming from the window.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I was thinking the same,” Thor smiles back softly. He remembers being boisterous, of grinning wildly. That doesn’t belong anymore, even though he feels warmer and happier than he has in ages. That’s okay. Steve’s happy with it.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m glad,” Steve says, truly pleased. “Was a good day.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You got shot.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Had worse,” the </span>
  <span>soldier</span>
  <span> shrugs, “and I didn’t have you to look after me then.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I don’t doubt it.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He can only imagine what kinds of wounds that perfect body has erased. Thor blushes a little at that last bit and turns away in search of the laptop. Oh, it’s in the corner. He picks it up and moves it near a chair where he sits and opens the lid.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Today is team meeting day, and Steve suggests they make something to bring. Thor doesn’t care what, so they decide brownies might be the easiest thing to make a lot of. When they’re finished, Thor watches the oven while Steve takes a third shower to clean third-degree cocoa stains off 30% of his arms and face. There’s still some in his eyebrow when he emerges. Thor points, but Steve leans forward trustingly and lifts his face, squeezing his eyes shut. Thor cups Steve’s soft cheek and rubs out the last smear of cocoa with his thumb.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor feels he might be alright sliding onto the motorbike behind Steve, but he enjoys their walks too much. Under an evening sun, they stroll through the city with a container of brownies each. Everyone is of course delighted with the present, too impatient to wait until after dinner to dig in. While they do, Thor notices the others sizing up Steve within the bustle to get everything set up, the food spread out, and the brownies distributed. They’re assessing him. They know he got hurt. </span>
  <em>
    <span>But he didn’t come to you, he came home to me.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He feels a sudden rush of pride, even though he knows Steve intended to look after himself, and even though it’s not fair to assume that the other Avengers knew firmly enough that Steve was hurt that badly but did nothing. Maybe they were only suspicious.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>They </span>
  <em>
    <span>do </span>
  </em>
  <span>keep Steve safe </span>
  <em>
    <span>on</span>
  </em>
  <span> the battlefield. He can hope, at least. To the best of his knowledge, they look after him </span>
  <em>
    <span>out there</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The night passes in a blur, and before they know it, it’s midnight. Countless rounds of video games have been played, table-loads of food (plus several batches of brownies) have been eaten, and laughter has filled the room consistently over the hours spent together. Now the two of them are walking home, shoulder-to-shoulder, enjoying the sounds of the night to cleanse their ears. Once inside, Steve’s kicking off his shoes. He walks into his bedroom and emerges in sweats, but topless, his body shining in whatever city lights shine dimly through the closed blinds. He flops on the sofa on his back and sits up a bit on the pillows, spreading out his legs and waiting invitingly for Thor to join him like they always do.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor quietly slides out of his shoes, but doesn’t bother taking off any of his layers. He pads to the couch and hesitates.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“We don’t have to sleep here if you don’t want,” Steve frowns, sensing the uncertainty. “Or I can move... I can put a shirt on, if you prefer, I was just kinda warm, that’s all.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s alright,” Thor shakes his head and comes closer. This is the same as it’s been in the past, only now he’s pressed right up against Steve’s skin. Almost. He still has </span>
  <span>all</span>
  <span> his own layers separating them. It’s not that he doesn’t want to be close... </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>It doesn’t matter. Steve wraps an arm around his back and drapes the blanket over them both, cocooning them in a bundle of safety. Fingers thread into his hair, and he tenses, but it’s only Steve brushing a few </span>
  <span>locks</span>
  <span> from his face. Thor sighs and presses his cheek into Steve’s pec. It does make a good pillow, and he likes the sound of a strong heartbeat underneath. It rings through his </span>
  <span>skull,</span>
  <span> a warrior’s beating drum. It never falters, never dulls, always pounding a steadfast rhythm.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>--</span>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>In the dead of night, the Children stalk their enemy. It’s been five years. Thor fights with the Order, trains with them. He’s one of them, at least in uniform. Thanos favors him, that much is evident. The others may be better than him in so many ways, but Thor is a quick learner, and an eager one. He picks up techniques fast, and he demonstrates extraordinary resilience. He can fight longer than they can, can take harder hits.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Sometimes, when they split up the mission, they give him the more dangerous tasks. He suspects it, at least. Thor would never dare accuse them of anything, not even to </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> is private. The Children would find out, he knows that. Midnight already enjoys herself too much. Would she dare go further?</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Thor runs at top speed. He can run faster than they can. And with Thanos’ training, he’s more agile, knows how to use his body better. If only Odin could see him now.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Thor doesn’t think about Odin that much anymore, or </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Asgard</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>, or Loki, or even Mjolnir. Usually, if he’s thinking about his family, it’s because Midnight reminds him of them. She whispers in his ear while he’s drugged and at her mercy. </span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Pity your family </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>abandoned</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> you,” she’ll purr like a cat, and he’s her treat. She loves to hear her own voice as she whispers these things in his ear. “Their crown prince falls, and they don’t search for you? Where are they?”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Not here. They’re never here. Never were. They never did love him... Did they even look for him? Space is vast, but </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Asgard</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> has resources, and it has Heimdall. Surely... </span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Thor doesn’t want them to find him anyway. </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>So</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> it doesn’t matter. He lives here now. Midnight’s ministrations will always come to an end, and soon </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> will take him back to his room like he always does, and life will go on. He’ll suit up and fight again. He’ll train, improve on whatever mistake he made, and become better. </span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Today’s mission is delicate: kill seven gatekeepers and enter the catacombs to retrieve an artifact that will help </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> track down the infinity stones. These gatekeepers are powerful warriors, so of course Proxima Midnight and </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Corvus</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> Glaive team up, as well as Ebony Maw and Cull Obsidian. There are seven gates buries into the landscape and spaced in a large circle shape; everyone will attack evenly spread around the area, and work through enemies until all of them are killed.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Thor jumps into a tree. With his strength and agility, he can keep off the ground and keep approaching where one of the keepers should be.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Indeed;</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> the first gatekeeper comes loping through the trees, large owlish eyes searching the underbrush and its nostrils flaring. It’s twice as tall as </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Thor, and</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> covered in a scaly hide. It looks intelligent enough, but it isn’t armed. Those large fists look capable enough of doing damage on their own though. To the underbrush, at least. Thor doesn’t think they’re strong enough to break Asgardian bones, but he won’t risk it. A stealth attack will at the very least reduce the chances of some noise alerting other nearby gatekeepers. Thor drops from the branches onto the keeper’s broad shoulders, his blades in his hands. He drives them into the soft flesh between the rough scales and tears downward, splitting open the creature. It starts to stagger and topple backward, so Thor rips out the knives and pushes off, jumping neatly to safety. He lands on his feet, and the beast falls with a thud, opening its mouth to prepare a sound, but Thor is faster. One more strike, and the first gatekeeper is dead.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He doesn’t need the others. Thor flicks blood off his knives and sheathes them, moving on. The first enemy was easy enough, but that doesn’t mean the rest will be the same, so he reminds himself not to expect anything. The forest is very quiet, so he knows the others are doing their job well.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Something is moving nearby. Thor quickly leaps into the branches and perches, one hand on his blade as he scans the forest floor for his enemy. </span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The enemy is behind him, dropping from a higher branch and knocking them both into the underbrush. Thor nearly yelps, but he holds it back, even as his shoulders drive into the ground in an explosion of dirt and leaves. The gatekeeper draws a weapon at the </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>same</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> time as Thor, and they both roll in the underbrush as they right themselves and attack at once.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>This gatekeeper is shorter and leaner than its companion, covered in the same scaly skin, blinking with the same owlish eyes. It’s got large curved and serrated horns on its head, and a second pair of arms. In one hand it holds a sword, and in another a knife, both made of what looks like rock. Very sharp, very strong rock. Even carved that long and thin, the rock is strong enough not to break. With those two blades, the creature </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>has</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> long and short-distance attacks covered. Thor does not.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Thor barely has the chance to size up his enemy before it’s attacking him. It drives him back a couple of steps, and when his back is trapped against a tree, the creature swipes its sword for him. Thor ducks, and the blade slices through the trunk in a smooth and unhindered slash. The tree falls, its cross-section smoking. Thor rolls sideways out of the way of another strike and catches the tree before it can hit the ground. He balances the trunk in both hands and throws it. The gatekeeper splits it with his sword, and Thor takes that chance to duck underneath and strike out with his blade. He slides past, cutting into the creature’s scaly ankles. The gatekeeper roars, but its skin is tough enough to protect it from being crippled by the blow.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The two pieces of tree fall with a thud, and the creature lets loose a howl to the skies. Thor’s eyes widen, and he launches forward as fast as he can. Two of these things at once might be too much.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The gatekeeper drops its head and scoops its horns upward. Thor drops his blade so he can catch them and push back. They cut deep into his palms as he wrestles the beast, but he’s stronger. Thor squeezes harder and swings it around by the head, throwing it into a tree. He picks up his fallen blade, and something grabs him from behind. A large hand seals around his throat and returns the favor, hurling him into a different tree.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>A second gatekeeper has arrived. This one wields similar weapons to its companion, and now two of the forest-dwellers are bearing down on him. Thor holds up his other hand and gets ready.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>These creatures aren’t sloppy; they attack with precision and teamwork, and they’re better warriors than the Children. Besides, they’re in their element, too. It’s not long before a pair of horns comes a little too close, one gouging under his ribs. The gatekeeper flings him off, and he flies toward the other, its weapons ready. Thor lands, tearing up soil and shrubbery. He rolls as fast as he can to avoid a sword in the chest, and rolls a little further so a knife doesn’t bury in his throat. Thor sheathes his own knife and jumps into the maze of branches before he’s cut in half.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The tree is cut instead, right through like the other, and it starts to fall. Thor perches on a branch and jumps, flinging himself safely over the gatekeepers and landing behind them. They spin around and start to fan out, and Thor attacks while they’re still close. He leaves a long gash in the belly of one, but as the other circles him to run him through from behind, he lunges to protect himself, and instead takes the knife from the one in front of him. The slash cuts deep across his eye, hot enough to burn, but not enough to cauterize. The cut is so clean that it takes a second or two for the blood to come, but when it does, it immediately coats the side of his face.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Faster, he has to be faster. Thor backs up, turning his body so he can keep both enemies in his good eye, gritting his teeth through the agony. They’re circling him still, though one is bleeding quite badly from the blow Thor landed on it. One more, and he can kill it. Thor prepares himself.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He doesn’t have to: as the gatekeepers descend on him, a familiar blade pierces the chest of one, and a spear of wood impales the other. Those are killing blows, and the creatures fall away. The other Children are there, Ebony Maw using his telekinetic power to rip free the spear of wood and allow blood to gush from the wound. </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Corvus</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> Glaive pulls his glaive from the other and flicks blood from it. All four of them appraise him with a variety of expression.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Obsidian snorts at him and stomps past the bodies, looking through the foliage to a bright light the glows out of the landscape – a door.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ebony Maw walks by, hands clasped behind his back. “The path is clear,” he announces, leading the others with him. </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Corvus</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> Glaive follows, </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>baring</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> his teeth in a menacing grin at Thor’s blood-soaked face.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“A brave effort, little one,” Midnight stalks past too, swiping her tongue across her lips.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Thor sheathes his knife and wipes some blood off his cheek, but it doesn’t make much of a difference. Half-blinded, he wraps his left arm around his bleeding ribs and holds out his right as a guard. A stone door slides open just ahead, inviting them into a dark pathway. Thor staggers along behind, but none of the others pay him much notice. It’s better that way. They know he doesn’t need help, that he’s strong enough to look after himself.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>--</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> gets what he sent for; the Children return with a strange-looking object that appears to be a key. Or something...? Thor isn’t really following what’s going on. This will help </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> collect one of the infinity stones, somehow...? </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> thanks his children, and dismisses them, and Thor tenses in preparation.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Midnight hardly needs to drug him this time; he feels so </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>woozy</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> and off-balance already, and his eye throbs something terrible. Worse than the gouge in his ribs. He won’t receive anything for them until Midnight is finishes with him though. She drags him stumbling through the ship and into the cell, undressing both of them and cuffing him tightly to the table. As always, she has her way with him, and as </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>always</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> he’s powerless to stop her. She takes full advantage of his tender spots, hungrily using them to torture him into bucking and twisting to her tune.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He passes out before she’s finished, and when he wakes </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>up,</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> he’s clean and resting naked in his bed.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>His wounds have been treated. </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> has taken him away from that cell and brought him back here. </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> is sitting beside him, and urges him to eat even though he doesn’t want to. He doesn’t have a choice: </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> makes him – for his own good, of course. Then, he’s urged to sleep, and he obeys.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Hours pass, and Thor stumbles to the bathroom. He hurts all over from the drug and Midnight’s touch, his injuries not helping. At least his side is healing well. It’s a deep wound, but his body is handling it. Thor can already feel that it’s much less tender than last he was awake. Deciding against disturbing it, he leaves it wrapped and wipes himself clean.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Finally, he has to look up at himself in the mirror. His eye hasn’t stopped hurting, and it’s barely improved. Thor pulls the bandage off his head and stares at his face in the mirror. A long, swollen line cuts across his eye, which is still leaking blood and fluid. Thor bites his lip and pulls apart the lids. Quickly, he lets go and leans on the counter, pressing the bandage over it – it looks horrible, and he can’t see a thing out of it. His eye is ruined, and the wound isn’t healing like the other. Those damned swords...</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>This is a price to pay for his mistake. He fought, he lost, and he has something to show for it. All he can do is move on, and make due. Asgardians have never needed both eyes to be great warriors.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It does hinder him, though. When Thor shows up for training the next day, he’s struggling. The Children don’t show him any mercy, as usual, not making any attempts to avoid his healing wounds. An enemy wouldn’t, so why should they? This is what training is for. Thor just wishes </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> weren’t here to watch him fail. He’s doing his best! The pain he can work through, but it’s going to take time for him to get used to his blind eye, no matter how fast of a learner he is.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Midnight swings her staff into his head, the red cut in his face practically inviting her wrath. Pain rips through it, ringing inside his eye socket and spreading into the rest of his skull. If he could just see a little out of that eye, he’d have seen that strike coming. So far, she’s still managing to trick him and still lands blows on his blind side no matter how much he tries to predict her or keep her where he can see her.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“That’s enough,” </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> orders. “We will end for today.”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Thor sighs and resists the urge to clamp his hand over his throbbing eye.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Go find Ebony Maw,” </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> orders, and Midnight nods, striding off. A hand lands on Thor’s shoulder. “Is it still not healing?” Thanos asks gently.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Thor shakes his head and touches around his eye with a wince. It’s still hot and angry. The cut has barely sealed. “It’s alright,” he murmurs hastily. “I’ll learn. I’ll make it work-”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Let me see,” </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> cuts him off, tenderly laying a hand on Thor’s cheek to hold his head steady while he examines the wound with concern. “No, it truly is not improving much. Your eye may not recover.”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>No, Thor doesn’t think it will. Whatever enchantment was on those blades, or if they </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>were</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> simply made of a strange material, it’s not something his physiology can handle. He’s not getting his eye back.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I may be able to find a solution,” </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> smiles reassuringly. “Trust me. I can make this right.”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Thor nods gratefully, unsure what could be done. A spell, maybe? The universe is full of strange and powerful magics.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Go rest,” </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> orders. “Let me think on it.”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Thank you,” Thor agrees, and slumps off for bed.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He doesn’t get that far before Midnight is dragging him away again, Ebony Maw beside him. This time, all four Children are gathered, and this time, they don’t go to the cell. There’s still a table with cuffs fastened to it, but there’s some equipment set up here, and a coil of straps on the floor. Thor wrestles and tries to break free, but they have him. The door shuts and Obsidian slides in front of it.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Everyone makes mistakes,” Ebony Maw stands by the table in wait, calm as always. “But everyone must learn from those mistakes. And you will learn, Thor.”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Thor growls and fights in panic, but Midnight jams her compressed injector into his neck and his body goes limp. Together, she and Glaive flip him onto the table and cuff him down. This time, his wrists are at his sides. Panic rises in his throat, his control completely taken from him. He doesn’t want this. He doesn’t want them to do to him what Midnight does, or watch while she does her usual.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Thanos</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> needs functioning warriors,” Ebony looms over him, straps floating by his head like snakes. “There can be no room for failure. If you fail, you must endure punishment. If you cannot perform, you must be improved.”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The straps strike, the ends curling around him. He thrashes, but they </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>wrap</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> around his head and hold it down. They secure his shoulders, and his hips, tightening in one sharp yank.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“It will be over soon,” Midnight joins Ebony in his field of vision, laying her finger on his lips.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It can’t be over soon enough.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>--</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It hurts. It hurts more than what Midnight does to him, but this is different: his body can’t be tricked into enjoying any part of this. He hates it so vehemently, that it’s a strange sort of relief. No part of him feels pleasure, but it feels good to scream, and that’s his choice. He cries, and Midnight chastises him as the tears gather where Ebony is trying to work. He can’t help it though, and he doesn’t care.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Gods, it hurts. Asgardians are tough, but this is something else. Ebony is just as cruel as Midnight, and maybe he’s getting off somehow on what he’s doing, but at least he’s not forcing Thor to do the same. This is just pure pain.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>No matter how badly it hurts, they won’t let him pass out. They inject him with more drugs until he feels ill, but when he tries to be </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>sick</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> they medicate that away too, leaving him caught in between. He screams again, and again, and </span>
  </em>
  <span>again.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>After an eternity, it ends. Finally, they let him black out.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>When he wakes, he’s back in his room again, tucked under his blanket. His head hurts, and his throat is rubbed raw, but his eye doesn’t burn as badly as before. When he opens them, they </span>
  </em>
  <span>both</span>
  <em>
    <span> open, and he can </span>
  </em>
  <span>see</span>
  <em>
    <span>. One eye is a little blurry, and the lids are swollen, but he can see. Thor rolls out of bed as fast as he can manage, and stumbles to the bathroom. Too fast. He falls against the counter and throws up violently in the sink. The pressure </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>aggravates</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> his eye, and the acid burns his throat, but when he’s done, he feels a bit better.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Thor rinses out his mouth and stands there heaving, staring at his face in the mirror. Indeed, his eye is red and swollen, and the cut is still healing, but that eye is healthy and new. It’s... not the exact shade of blue as the other, and he can see a little circle running through the middle of the iris, but that doesn’t matter. He can see again. Already, his sight has </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>improved</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>, the blur clearing up as his brain adjusts to the new eye. It sparks a little, but then it feels normal enough. The pain is better. Thor vows to himself not to make a mistake like that again.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>--</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve has to go to work again, of course. They part with a hug, which lingers a bit longer than usual. Thor lays his head on Steve’s shoulder. “Be safe,” he murmurs his plea.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I will,” Steve promises. “You too, okay? Call me if you need something. Or text.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor smiles. He’s got his phone in his pocket, and Steve is taking his own along. That’s enough for him, just knowing they can communicate despite being separated. “Thank you.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve drives away, and Thor trudges back to his room. He makes sure to clear a space around the bed, throws aside his extra pillows, and stuffs his phone under one. He spreads out his duvets so they cover the whole bed, and lays back to wait. It’s nerve-wracking, as usual. Thor shivers despite all his layers, in anticipation for when they’ll be stripped from him. He’s worried about Steve, too. He hopes Steve won’t need his help again, though he’s more than happy to give it. Steve’s going to be gone for a few days this time round. Thor hopes Midnight come quickly this time. He lies on his bed as the hours tick by, but she doesn’t show. Maybe she won’t - something in his brain always suggests that, though he knows it’s not true. Oh, she’ll come.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>A whole day goes by, and Thor only gets more agitated. He can’t eat, though he walks into the kitchen and stands there lost before hurrying back to his room. Another day goes, and he doesn’t sleep. He can’t. He can’t have the phonograph on when she comes, and not even the music would quell his growing anxiety. He doesn’t dare shower either, because what if she takes him in there? No, he won’t let her have any other places but this room, and this bed. If this is all he can do to protect Steve’s house from her, this is what he’ll do.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>It’s tempting to strip, for the sole reason that it would return him a sliver of autonomy in the matter, but he doesn’t want to be laid bare when she arrives. He doesn’t want to present himself to her. Besides, if she has to get him out of all his layers, she wastes some strength doing that. Not much, but it’s something. It’s a little bit of power he can hold on to, making her work.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Four days pass before she arrives, and he feels so weak already that when the drug floods his system, it does provide some relief for his aching stomach. His heart is beating so fast from combined anxiety, fear, and the drug, that his chest hurts. Her hands grab at him as she gets both of them naked, squeezing unkindly. She’s always rough with him, but it bothers him more than usual. Not that it was ever fine, but he was getting used to it.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Today, it’s unbearable, and he can’t do a thing about it.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I think you like this,” Midnight slides across him. “I think you want it. You linger here, little one, simply waiting for me to find you time and time again. You lie ready for me, while your task is untouched.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>She’s wrong.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>She’s wrong. He doesn’t want this. He doesn’t. He doesn’t enjoy it, and he doesn’t want her. She’s wrong.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re all you have,” Midnight grabs a handful of his hair so she can hold his head still and yank his face a bit closer to hers. “There is no other place for you.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>She’s wrong. He’s pretty sure, at least, and getting surer with ever </span>
  <span>vicious</span>
  <span> touch she applies to his body. He’ll be prepped soon, but he knows very firmly that he doesn’t want this. She won’t convince him otherwise.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“How much more must you endure before you will finish what you came here to do?” she challenges softly. “What must you make me do?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>No more. He can’t stand her hands on him anymore. He can’t stand the way she does anything she pleases, and he doesn’t care if it’s his fault. He just wants her hands off of him. With the drug in the way, he can’t make his mouth speak, so he thinks his resistance as hard as he can.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>There’s only one pair of hands he wants on him, only one pair he trusts.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He trusts Steve. Steve is his friend. Steve doesn’t touch him like this. Steve is careful and thoughtful. He never takes, always listens and watches for what Thor wants.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Midnight does not. And he </span>
  <em>
    <span>doesn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> enjoy it. She’s wrong.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>She’s wrong.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>No more. He can’t do this anymore.</span>
  
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Chapter 17</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Wrongs begin to be put right.</p><p>I appreciate your feedback as always! Thank you &lt;3 You all spoil me.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>When Steve comes home, rain is brutally pelting down, but the house is eerily silent. The washing machine is usually on when he comes back, or the phonograph, or the shower, or Thor is moving in the kitchen, </span>
  <em>
    <span>something.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Today there’s nothing.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Not </span>
  <em>
    <span>nothing...</span>
  </em>
  <span> A squeak, like someone moving against the tub. Quietly, he sets down his bags and takes off his shoes, slicking water off his face. He shrugs off his jacket so he can creep more quietly through the apartment and try to figure out what that sound is, and if he should be worried.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Oh, he needs to be worried alright, because that’s a sob.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve abandons stealth and caution, running into the hallways. The bathroom door is resting shut, a crack of light shining under it. He bursts through.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor is sprawled on the floor, one arm draped over the edge of the tub and the other limp at his side, a pair of scissors weakly clasped in his grip. He’s completely naked, scars shining in plain sight under the bright lights. He’s flushed with sobs, and his heart is racing thunderously. Most alarmingly though, are the uneven tufts of golden hair sticking up all over his head, and the chopped locks scattered on the bathroom floor.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>If Steve had anything his hand, he probably would have dropped it, but luckily they’re empty. He runs into the bathroom, careful not to slip on the hair, and drags a towel off the rack to throw over Thor’s shivering body.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>His friend’s wearing that same drugged expression Steve’s caught on him a couple of times, but it’s much fresher this time. This isn’t a panic attack (not on </span>
  <span>its</span>
  <span> own, at least), and Steve can’t begin to fathom what’s happened. Thor looks barely conscious, staring distantly through swollen, heavy eyelids. There are fresh bruises on his neck, and more under the towel, too, which Steve doesn’t dare pull away to check beneath. Steve gets to his knee by Thor’s side and takes the scissors from his hand, setting them on the counter. “Thor... Thor can you hear me?” He can’t see any signs of injury besides the bruises, but when he reaches out his hand to take a pulse, Thor flinches away and jolts into more awareness. Steve quickly pulls back. “Hey, Thor, it’s just me. It’s Steve. Can you hear me?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor pulls himself a bit closer to the tub with his other arm, but he can barely manage it and goes limp after a couple of seconds of struggle. Fresh tears soak into his face, and he’s panting through his mouth like he can’t catch his breath.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Thor, I need you to say something to me,” Steve swallows roughly, fighting against an overwhelming sense of powerlessness and confusion and </span>
  <em>
    <span>fear.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “Thor please... I need to know what’s wrong.” He fights for control with Captain America’s willpower, fighting to stay calm and continue to assess the situation as best he can. Does Thor need medicine? His heartrate is frantic and possibly dangerous. It’s certainly draining.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor shudders under the towel, clearly in pain and very disoriented. It takes him a minute to move his eyes and really </span>
  <em>
    <span>look</span>
  </em>
  <span> at Steve. He blinks away a few tears and realization dawns on him. Another sob that sounds a lot like ‘no’ wheezes out of his mouth.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Thor...” Steve bites his lips as he tries to piece that desperation into his puzzle of the situation, but it only raises more questions. “Thor, please talk to me, or....” Or what? What’s he supposed to do, call an ambulance? Or SHIELD? They won’t know what to do with an alien, no matter how much Thor’s species resembles human. That would likely cause more distress, and Thor could hurt someone. “Okay. At least let me help you. I’ll get you some clothes, and we’ll get this cleaned up, okay?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor only shivers, but he yelps and his hand twitches the second Steve starts to move away.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve quickly kneels again and takes Thor’s hand. “Hey. I’ll be right back, okay? You can’t lie on the floor forever.” He tries a smile.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor doesn’t pull away from the touch this time, weakly squeezing back and holding on. Even he doesn’t seem to know what he wants, or even what’s going on. Not entirely, at least. “S-Steve...”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah it’s me,” Steve keeps his smile, wrapping his other hand around Thor’s. “Think you can get up? I’ll help you. I just want you to sit, that’s all.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor pauses, but he nods and lets Steve pulls his arm across his shoulders. His friend is so weak and disoriented, barely able to shove his legs under himself. With his other arm he clutches the towel against his body, struggling to keep himself covered. Thick, superhuman muscle flexes all over his body, but it barely does a damn thing. Quickly as he can, Steve pulls Thor back a little and eases him onto the toilet lid. His friend’s lips are dry under the shimmer of tears wetting them, and his skin has a texture that proclaims dehydration.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Just sit here, alright?” Steve grabs another couple of towels from the cupboard and wraps them around Thor’s shoulders. “I’ll be right back.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The Captain runs as fast as he can. He runs into Thor’s room first, and the second the door opens he’s struck with the sight of rumpled, damp sheets, and the smell of something powerful. It takes him a minute to place, but that’s the smell of sex – Steve’s walked in on other soldiers a few times during the war. It’s no wonder the washing machine’s always on when he comes home. The more he discovers, the less anything makes sense, so Steve decides not to play detective and just make sure Thor’s alright first. He shuts the door and gathers some clothes from his own room: some sweats, a hoodie, and a handful of shirts.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He comes back to the bathroom with the clothes, a broom, and some water. The coffee pot brews in the kitchen. Quickly, he sweeps the hair into a corner so at least it won’t get stuck to their feet. Thor is still huddled under his towels, on the verge of hyperventilating as he struggles to regulate his breathing.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve dumps the clothes on the counter and walks closer, crouching down so he’s not looming over his friend. He hands over the glass of water and makes sure Thor’s fingers are wrapped around it. “Thor..? Is it okay if I touch you? I just want to take your temperature.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>At first, Thor starts to jolt away, but he changes his mind sluggishly and leans forward, squeezing his eyes shut. A few more tears dribble down his cheeks, and drip into his glass of water held between trembling hands.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve can’t help but brush the tears away with his knuckles before resting the back of his hand against Thor’s forehead. Uneven locks of hair droop forward, and there’s a bleeding mark on his forehead where he must have tried to hack his bangs but missed and stabbed himself instead. Steve grabs some toilet paper and wads it up over the bleeding wound. He doesn’t want to move too boldly and without Thor’s permission, but he can’t just sit here and wait, because something might be seriously wrong. Something </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> seriously wrong, but does it require medical attention?</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Just because things have been going well lately doesn’t mean Steve’s going to assume Thor’s okay with what he’s recently been okay with. Steve moves hesitantly, brushing back chopped hair and holding Thor’s face in his hands. “Thor...? Can you look at me? I need to make sure you didn’t hit your head.” Every possibility needs to be addressed.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor peels his eyelids open, and they quickly gather with tears again. His eyes are less fearful than before (though he hasn’t stopped shaking), but they’re still glazed. They aren’t exactly the same shade of a blue either. Steve looks deep into them, but any symptoms of concussion to be found are also shared by the symptoms of being drugged. Thor is so weak, drooping forward when Steve lets go of his head. He flops forward with another sob, and Steve catches him.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Is this okay...?” He lifts his arms and wraps one very lightly around Thor’s back. His friend nods once into Steve’s shoulder, so the Captain wraps the other and holds on more tightly. Today, Thor doesn’t hug back, but he does let himself be draw in closer and twists himself sideways so there can be as little space between them as possible.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>His heartrate is coming down by a few beats. It’s still too fast, but it’s getting better instead of worse. Steve frees one arm to pluck the glass of water from Thor’s hands and draw them closer still. “I gotcha...” he murmurs. “I gotcha.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>This cannot go on. Whatever happened today has been happening since that first time Steve came home and Thor was different. Thor’s been washing his sheets because something happens on that bed when Steve leaves. It’s not the one thing Steve can think of, because that sort of thing doesn’t do </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span> to a person. Sure, Thor’s an alien, so maybe self-pleasuring requires different methods to produce different results, but he can’t imagine they would ever reduce Thor to this kind of state. No, he’s been </span>
  <em>
    <span>drugged</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Severely, and repeatedly. Those marks on his neck haven’t been made by his own hands. Whatever </span>
  <em>
    <span>has</span>
  </em>
  <span> been happening, Thor doesn’t enjoy it.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>If he doesn’t enjoy it, then why does it keep happening? Steve doesn’t know where to start with his questions, but he does know that today, something worse than the other times has occurred, because he’s never seen Thor like this. Thor’s never tried to chop off all his hair in a blind panic before.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>And why has Steve never found out, or asked more questions? He should have from day one, clearly. He should have investigated, or at least been more worried and observant. His heart clenches tightly, but he fights back guilt in favor or remaining calm. Now’s not the time to think about himself.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>What now? Thor is filthy. There isn’t too much hair stuck to his body, but he smells of sex and sweat, and Steve doubts it would be nice to stuff that under layers of clothes. Can he stand up on his own, though? And if not, would he accept help? </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you hurt?” Steve asks. Thor doesn’t answer, still shivering. “Physically, are you hurt?” Thor’s hurting in some way or another, that much is clear.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Not physically though, at least: Thor shakes his head into Steve’s shoulder.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay. Okay, we should get you cleaned up, okay? I’ll help you.” Steve starts to pull away, but Thor’s hands grabs his shirt.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor whimpers and holds on. “S-Steve...” he wheezes. He swallows and pauses like he has something to say.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah...?” Steve holds his friend and waits patiently. “Take your time. Not goin’ anywhere.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor clutches his towels more tightly, as if they’re his armor. “S-sorry...” he murmurs. “I’m sorry...”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothin’ to be sorry for,” Steve shakes his head. “Don’t be sorry.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“N-no...” Thor’s respirations pick up again as he struggles to gather his words. He seems to be having more trouble talking than usual, and for a different reason. He’s still slurring. “You don’t... you don’t know...”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know anything,” Steve agrees hurriedly. “Nothin’. Might be easier to help if I knew a little, though.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor shivers, and it’s just as hard to tell if he’s cold or scared or in shock.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>They need to start simple, and start peeling away the layers of this mystery. “Did somebody drug you?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>A pause, then a hesitant nod. Thor’s shaking intensifies as he fights against his tears.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay,” Steve promises. “It’s okay, just let it out.” How long has Thor been crying? Hours? How long has he been on the bathroom floor? </span>
  <em>
    <span>What happened?</span>
  </em>
  <span> “Did someone come into the house?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Again, Thor freezes. He’s already sort-of answered that question with his previous answer, but Steve wants confirmation.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I won’t be angry,” the Captain hastily promises. “It’s alright. Whatever happened, I won’t be angry. Did somebody come into the house?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Another pause, but Thor nods the smallest nod.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you let them in?” A shake. “Did they come in on their own?” A nod. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Who the fuck has been coming into my house?</span>
  </em>
  <span> His first thought is the other Avengers, but only because they’re the only ones who know where he lives. Them, Fury, and maybe one or two other SHIELD agents. They wouldn’t cause this though. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry...” Thor sobs. “I’m sorry...”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“No, don’t be sorry,” Steve squeezes tighter, his tone much firmer. He softens it. “No, Thor. Did this person who came in drug you?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Once again, Thor gives a miniscule nod, on the verge of descending into whatever panic attack he was just starting to come out of. He’s still trying to control himself, to the point where he sucks in his breath and holds it.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Breathe,” Steve orders. “Thor, you need to breathe, okay? Whatever happened, I’m not </span>
  <span>gonna</span>
  <span> be mad-”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t know!” Thor barks out.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve lets go and grabs his friend’s face. “Look at me!” Thor stalls, staring wide-eyed into Steve’s urgent gaze. “I don’t, you’re right. But whatever it is, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>won’t be mad.</span>
  </em>
  <span> It doesn’t matter what it is, I know it wasn’t your fault.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“How can you know...” Thor moans, shutting his eyes.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Look at you,” Steve sighs, blinking away his own tears. “Look at you. It wasn’t your fault. Thor, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span> something’s been going on for weeks now, and it’s been happening every time I leave for work. I need to know what it is so we can stop it.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You can’t stop her...” Thor whimpers. “You can’t...”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe not, but even if </span>
  <span>not</span>
  <span> I’ll find a way to make sure she doesn’t come here again,” Steve presses his forehead into Thor’s, wishing the serum had given him the power of </span>
  <span>telekinesis</span>
  <span> so that Thor could know that it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>not his fault.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Somebody is coming into this apartment, drugging Thor, bruising him, and....</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The bedsheets, the smell, the layers Thor always wears no matter the weather. </span>
  <em>
    <span>No</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Steve prays not. He already feels sick, but he has to stay calm. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Stay. Calm.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “Thor? What does she do to you?” He has no intention of letting go of Thor’s face. No more hiding.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor stiffens, rigid and vibrating, refusing to open his eyes as if that’ll be enough to escape the questions. “I’m sorry...”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I saw the bed,” Steve pleads. “Thor. This can’t go on. It doesn’t matter how strong she is, we’ll find a way to keep her away from you. And it doesn’t matter what she did to you: I won’t be mad, and it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>not your fault</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor whimpers again, licking tears from his lips. “She... she has... she...” He swallows roughly. “We have... have s-sex.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>No, they don’t. That’s one of many thoughts that flood Steve’s brain as he lets go and pulls Thor back into a tight hug. Sickness churns his stomach. “That’s not sex,” he denies with a shake of his head. “Christ, Thor, that’s not sex. There’s no ‘we’ if she drugs you. That’s rape.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry.” Thor whispers.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have to be,” Steve squeezes. “She made you do something you didn’t want to do. That’s not your fault. I’ll say it as many times as I have to. And I’m serious when I say we’ll find a way to stop it, okay? This is the last time she’ll touch you.” The words are out of his mouth before he can consider how reasonable they are, but he’s going to make sure it’s not a lie. Whoever this bitch is, she’s not getting her </span>
  <span>hands on</span>
  <span> Thor again. “</span>
  <span>Shoulda</span>
  <span> asked you what was wrong a long time ago. I should be the one apologizing to you. How long has she been doing this?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor shakes his head. “Few weeks-”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Before,” Steve presses. Thor doesn’t answer. “Thor, has she been doing this to you before you came here?” Thor nods weakly. “How long?” Again, no answer, just quivering silence. That doesn’t bode well, and Steve tastes dread and presses. “How many years?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Since </span>
  <span>Thanos</span>
  <span>,” Thor whispers. At least his shaking has somewhat improved. He huddles tighter into Steve’s embrace.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck. A hundred years. She’s been raping him for a hundred years. That explains a lot.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Well, no, he can’t make assumptions like that. There are other variables. Who </span>
  <em>
    <span>knows</span>
  </em>
  <span> what other fuckery these bastards have done to Thor. “And she’s not Thanos?” he continues, desperate for as many answers as he can get. The longer they talk, maybe Thor will come round a little, and he can shower by himself. No matter how close they’ve been recently, Steve doubts Thor would be comfortable standing naked with Steve’s support, or even lying down and letting Steve wash him clean.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor shakes his head. “She is a child of Thanos. Like me.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>So </span>
  <span>Thanos</span>
  <span> is complicit. Steve draws away his arm and picks up the glass, pressing it back into Thor’s grip with a small remorseful smile. “Then we better make sure he doesn’t get his hands on you again either.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor takes a shaky sip of water and drops his face in his hand, starting to quietly cry again. He’s going to run out of fluids very shortly at this rate... “I can’t... I couldn’t do... do it anymore.” Tears drip off his hand and onto the floor between them.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve gently wraps his hands behind Thor’s neck, grasping it supportively and rubbing up the back of his friend’s hair. What’s left of it is damp with sweat. “No kidding,” he nudges the hand aside and smiles softly into Thor weary, broken eyes. “Hey. It’s over. She doesn’t come when I’m here, right?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Not yet,” Thor swallows wetly.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Then I won’t leave until we find a solution, and if she decides to pay a visit, then I’m sure we can take her together. Not sure if you’ve noticed, but I’m pretty strong,” Steve lifts his eyebrow, pushing back some of Thor’s </span>
  <span>massacred</span>
  <span> forelock. “Crashing a plane in the Arctic and freezing to death didn’t kill me, so I’d like to see her try.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor’s not sure. “She is powerful,” he whispers. “And her drug-”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I </span>
  <span>dunno</span>
  <span> if I’m more or less immune to drugs than you are, but if she </span>
  <span>tries,</span>
  <span> I’ll stop her.” It sounds easy enough, though he knows that if this woman comes </span>
  <span>back</span>
  <span> she may very well be more powerful than he is. But he doesn’t care. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor shudders and drops his face back in his palm, crying anew. “I’m a mess,” he moans, as if it’s new information to him.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, maybe a little,” Steve agrees gently. “But I think I know a quick way to start on that.” He straights and pulls open the bathroom drawer, and Thor lifts his face to watch with mild curiosity as the soldier proudly brandishes his razor. “I’m not a hair-dresser, but I think I can clean it up a little. Make it even, at least. That okay with you?” Consent, always consent. He’s going to get consent for anything and everything he can.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>To his relief, Thor nods, slumping. “Made a mess too,” he mutters, looking over at the pile of hair in the corner, then into his glass. “Sorry...”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve seen my messes,” Steve shrugs, plugging in the razor and picking a fitting. “This isn’t any worse. It’s a close contender, but I think I still win.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor smiles weakly at that, rubbing his thumbs up and down the glass. He takes a sip and wipes his cheeks, but lowers his hand so Steve can wrap another towel around his neck.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a smaller set of scissors in the drawer, which he takes out and uses to cut down some of the longer parts. He brushes and combs it before turning on the razor. Thor jumps, but he holds still while Steve steadies his head and goes at the sides first. While the razor buzzes, Thor lists. The pink swelling of constant sobbing is going down, and he’s sheet-white under it. Dehydration probably plays a role in that. How long does it take for that drug to wear off? Steve thinks back to the times he caught Thor coming out of the clutches of it and wonders how long ago this nameless bitch had committed her crime.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>A hundred years, Thor’s been dealing with this, all by himself. Did he have anyone to look out for him then? Thor has mentioned in the past that </span>
  <span>Thanos</span>
  <span> is his guardian, but surely in a hundred years he’d notice something... </span>
  <em>
    <span>You’re so brave...</span>
  </em>
  <span> Sure, Thor didn’t have a choice, but Thor’s here now, isn’t he? Glimmers of who he used to be shining through? A hundred years of abuse, and he’s still so kind. It breaks Steve’s heart how kind Thor’s been to him, in-spite of what’s been done to him. And all this time, someone was coming into his house, right under his nose...</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The only way to make it right is to fight as hard as he can against it. That means keeping Thor away from whoever did this, fighting her back if she shows up, and fighting to get </span>
  <em>
    <span>Thor</span>
  </em>
  <span> back. Fighting to protect his body and his soul. His heart. Making sure he has a place here, one where he’s safe and respected and loved, and has everything he needs. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve trades the clippers for his scissors and trims the top to be even. He knows how to trim his own hair, but he doesn’t want Thor have the same haircut as him. That might be odd. Maybe if he cuts close on the sides and leaves it a little longer on top. Steve remembers a few SHIELD agents with a hair-cut like that, as well as some checkout clerks he’s come across. Clint’s is </span>
  <span>kinda</span>
  <span> spiky too, he can do that... Steve turns Thor’s head to get a better look. Hmm, maybe a bit more off the top... He combs it and snips it down, swapping back to the razor to take the back down a bit. Yes, he’s seen this look on some young men around the city. It’s quite simple, but it looks good. Worlds better than it did after being butchered with full-sized paper scissors, at least. Sure, it could be better, but it’s alright. Steve proudly steps back to give it a better look. Satisfied, he unplugs the razor and gathers his supplies on the counter, shaking the last clipping out of Thor’s hair with a gentle towel-rub.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“All done,” he smiles.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor unfolds a little and reaches up to his head, touching the sides and ruffling the top curiously. He sniffs and wipes his eyes again, but there’s a faint smile pushing up his cheeks. One last sip, and his water is empty. “Thanks,” he croaks, turning up to Steve. His eyes are much clearer, though still fogged.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve smiles warmly back. “No problem. Think you can stand?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor shivers and puts the glass on the counter. He grasps the towels with one hand and the counter with the other, pushing to his feet. His knees wobble, and he drains a shade paler. Steve hurries over to steady him. He wants so badly to offer just to clean Thor up himself, but he doesn’t want to suggest anything that might trigger another attack. That wound might be too tender to prod. Maybe it always will be.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you think you can get in and out of the tub and dry off on your own?” Steve asks. The last thing he wants is for Thor to fall and need help anyway. “Why don’t you lie in the tub and shower like that? I won’t come in, I promise.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Thor agrees quietly, looking around the room. There are plenty of things to hold on to, and once he’s lying in the tub he can’t slip and fall.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll go put your blankets in the laundry,” Steve says. “You call me if you need me. Your clothes are right here. </span>
  <span>Sure</span>
  <span> you’ll be okay?” They can wait a little while until Thor feels better, but </span>
  <span>surely</span>
  <span> he wants to clean up as soon as he can. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor nods, some color returning as he regains his footing. He takes a fumbling step for Steve, releasing his towels with one hand so he can reach out tentatively with it. Steve doesn’t hesitate to move right back in and draw Thor into a tight hug. His friend collapses into his arms.</span>
  
</p><p><span>Steve gives Thor’s back a reassuring pat. “I’ll stay outside the door, okay? </span><span>Nothin’s</span> <span>gonna</span><span> come in here.”</span></p><p>
  <span>Thor nods into his shoulder.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>--</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve does his best to clean up Thor’s room, and fortunately all the evidence is contained to the bed. He carefully pushes both duvets into the washing machine, then goes to gather up the rest of the sheets and Thor’s clothes tossed across the room. He organizes everything for the next load of washing, then goes to sit by the bathroom door. When the water stops, he stands to attention, ready to rush in at the sounds of crashing, or hold his ground.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Nothing disastrous happens; Thor emerges, ruffling his newly-shortened hair. He’s dressed in the clothes Steve brought him, and leaning heavily on the doorframe. Steve opens his mouth to offer his aid as he holds out his arms, but Thor’s already slumping into them and accepting. He looks exhausted, his eyelids drooping, but at least he looks better. He smells heavily of strawberry.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The cut hair can be vacuumed up later. Steve doesn’t bother with it for now, helping Thor limp to the kitchen instead. Thor drops into a chair and leans on the table. He still looks ill, and his cheeks and eyes are a little sunken. They’ve never looked like that before. “When did you last eat?” Steve asks as he pours out two cups of coffee. Thor shrugs. “Since I left, what’s the last thing you ate?” Again, nothing. “I’m going to make you some toast,” Steve suggests, sliding a mug of coffee in front of his friend. “Do you feel sick?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Little,” Thor admits.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Dizzy?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Little.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Lots of water, then,” Steve smiles, filling another glass. “You’re pretty dehydrated. Wouldn’t be surprised if you’re having a sugar crash, too.” So far, the coffee is doing its job, soothing and returning Thor back to himself. It seems that way, at least.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The toast pops up, and Steve butters it generously before handing it over, hoping the salt will help. After the first tentative bite, Thor finds his appetite and keeps going, showing no signs of bringing it back up. The first swallow is a bit difficult, but he washes it down with coffee, and the second goes down easier, and the third, and the fourth. Steve turns on the stove to make some eggs.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Both of them are starving. Steve makes some more toast and enough eggs for both of them, dishing it out and sitting in his usual place. They eat together, Thor fighting harder and harder to keep his eyelids open. Steve almost suggests a movie, but reasons </span>
  <span>against</span>
  <span> it. “Where do you want to sleep?” he offers before it’s too late, gathering empty plates. “We can do the sofa, but you’re welcome to sleep in my bed instead.” Immediately, he curses himself for that suggestion, but Thor looks up and nods bashfully. He looks seconds away from dropping unconscious, so Steve rushes around to help him stand up. He’s more than capable of carrying his friend if need-be, but he’d rather make sure they end up sleeping the way Thor wants – does he want them to be separated, or close? Does he want to cuddle, or be pressed back-to-back, or...? Or anything. Steve doesn’t care what.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor willingly lets his arm be guided over Steve’s shoulders and walks slowly along with the help. His heartrate is still a tad fast, but it’s a lot better, as is his breathing. His eyes are still red and raw, but better too. They get to the bedroom, and Steve folds back the blankets. “Want me to leave?” he offers, and Thor quickly shakes his head, so the soldier pulls back and gets in first. “Okay. You just go where you want, okay? </span>
  <span>However</span>
  <span> you like. Whatever makes you feels safe.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>It takes the last of Thor’s strength to crawl into that bed, but he does, sliding clumsily under the blankets and shuffling right into Steve’s chest. Steve holds up his arm invitingly, and Thor draws it desperately around himself, curling up as close as he can. Happily, Steve wraps himself around Thor’s body. “Not </span>
  <span>leavin</span>
  <span>’” he promises. “Rest up.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor is already asleep.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve’s not going to drift off that easily. He’s tired too, but he’s much more worried. How the hell is he going to keep Thor safe from this unknown enemy? </span>
  <em>
    <span>It doesn’t matter how. I’ll find a way. The others will help too. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Steve wraps his hand around Thor’s head and rubs into his skull, grateful that Thor’s at least not pushing away from his touch. That’s a miracle on its own. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I won’t betray your trust.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He looks over at his shield case resting against the wall by his dresser, and clenches his jaw with determination, looking back down at the short tufts of damp hair drying spiky. Thor’s breathing has settled down to something much healthier, though there’s a light tremor in it. His pulse is down too, and he’s deeply asleep.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You’re not leaving my sight.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>--</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Predictably, Steve doesn’t sleep much, content to keep watch and his mind reeling too badly anyway. He manages a couple of hours late into the night, and that’s more than enough to keep him going. Thor doesn’t stir, his breaths pushing evenly against Steve’s chest. When the first rays of morning light pierce through the blinds, Steve can see that the bruises on Thor’s neck are gone. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Thank god.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor doesn’t show any signs of waking up until late morning, and Steve stays right where he is. There’s nowhere else he needs to be. With a </span>
  <span>whoosh</span>
  <span> of breath, Thor groans softly and feeds his hand between them, rubbing his eyes one at a time.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Morning’,” Steve smiles, and he’s met with a pair of sea blue eyes that are much clearer than they were yesterday evening. “Sleep okay?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor nods. “Sorry...” he mutters.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Already told you, you don’t have to be,” Steve shakes his head on the pillows.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Passed out...” Thor looks away.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You were tired,” Steve says. “It’s alright. </span>
  <span>Nothin</span>
  <span>’ to be sorry for. How you feelin’?” He raises his hand and hovers his palm near Thor’s head. “Can I?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor nods. “Better.” He winces and rubs the bridge of his nose. “Headache.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re still pretty dehydrated,” Steve nods, clasping the side of Thor’s head and feeling a pulse through his temple as he strokes back some of the longer bits of forelock. That cut in his forehead is almost gone. “This okay?” Steve asks just in case, even though Thor appears to be enjoying the gesture.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Mmhm.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You </span>
  <span>wanna</span>
  <span> sleep some more? I’m </span>
  <span>gonna</span>
  <span> get you something to drink, but you can stay here if you want,” Steve strokes across Thor’s forehead, back across the top of his head, and down the back where he rubs the shaved hair there.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor shakes his head, his stomach rumbling. He winces and squeezes it with his hand.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Breakfast too,” Steve reassures, sitting up. Thor follows, and they both rolls off their side of the bed. By the time Thor is shakily pushing to his feet, Steve is already at his side to make sure he doesn’t end up flat on his face. The drug has worn off not at least, but low blood sugar and dehydration are stealing away Thor’s stability in its place. At least some rest has helped, but he must be starving. As soon as Thor is seated, Steve pulls out more food than usual and immediately gets to work cooking a generous breakfast.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor is slumped over, clutching his stomach and rubbing his forehead. Steve wishes he had some Tylenol or something, but he doesn’t keep any with him. There’s no medication in the first-aid kit either, so Thor will have to make due with just water and rest to get rid of what must be a borderline migraine. Steve gives his friend a big glass of orange juice and a banana while the eggs and sausages cook. Somehow, Thor looks newly burdened, despite everything he revealed yesterday. Or perhaps that’s the cause... Steve can’t imagine what that feels like, to be abused consistently for a century and then have that secret revealed against your will.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Why didn’t you tell me?” He’s curious, not angry or accusing, and does his best to display that with his tone and expression as he looks back at the table.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor doesn’t look back, holding his glass in both hands. “Thought you might be angry...”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Never,” Steve reassures gently. “Never, Thor.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You welcomed me here,” Thor murmurs. “You did not ask for this.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Neither did you,” Steve reasons. He knows he can’t reason Thor out of how he feels, but maybe it’ll help. “Were you worried I’d be angry about the sheets?” Everything washed out. Steve wishes he could wash this off of Thor just as thoroughly.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor shrugs. “</span>
  <span>S’not</span>
  <span> right,” he tries, his voice a quivering whisper, as if by explaining it he’ll give Steve a reason to be mad. “You don’t deserve this.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Deserve what?” Steve stirs the eggs, leaning his hip against the stove. “It’s not about me.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not...” Thor stares into his glass, looking for words. “Shouldn’t let you touch me. I’m...  filthy.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not filthy,” Steve quickly replies. “What </span>
  <em>
    <span>she did</span>
  </em>
  <span> to you is filthy. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You</span>
  </em>
  <span> are not.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Let it happen,” Thor trembles, blinking furiously. “I made a mistake. She came because of that. Always because of that.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Of course</span>
  <span> these bastards would say that. </span>
  <span>Of course</span>
  <span> they would spin it that way, make Thor think it’s his fault they hurt him. “You didn’t ask for that,” Steve retorts angrier than he means to. “It’s not your fault. People make mistakes, but that’s... that’s not how you... It’s just wrong. And it’s not your fault. It doesn’t make you dirty.” Steve never used to believe in good and evil, and usually he doesn’t. People make choices, and sometimes they make mistakes. But every now and then, he stumbles across someone who is truly evil. Schmidt was one. And whoever this woman is who raped Thor for a hundred years definitely belongs on that list. Hell, he’s tempted to throw </span>
  <span>Thanos</span>
  <span> on that list too.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I was worried,” Thor tries another angle, which is reassuring. It means Steve’s finding weak points in those arguments and forcing him to find more. Steve will disprove all of them, as many times as it takes. “I thought... I thought she might hurt you. If you knew, then...”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve’s about to say that if Midnight wants to get to Thor, she’ll have to go through him, but that doesn’t seem wise at the moment. “I’ve got friends who will help,” he smiles reassuringly. “They don’t have to know what happened, but they will help protect you. I won’t be alone, and neither will you. She’s not touching you again, Thor.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>That seems to be some relief, at least. Steve wouldn’t blame Thor for being skeptical – it's not a reflection of Steve’s own abilities, but of the overwhelming power this threat is to Thor. It’s overwhelming and tenacious, and it looms over this very room, even for Steve. It’ll come. One of these days, it will. If they don’t go to the threat, it will come to them.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor sighs. “I didn’t want you to think differently of me.” That admission, like all the others, comes with raw, bleeding pain. It comes timidly, quietly, and with guilt. “I should not think so little of you.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>None of these feelings are wrong, and ultimately, Thor needs to know that. “That sounds like a reasonable fear to me,” Steve acknowledges gently, giving the eggs another </span>
  <span>stir</span>
  <span> before turning off the stove. “But I promise that I don’t. I don’t think less of you, at least.” Proudly, he fills two large plates with eggs and toast and sausages, setting one down before Thor. “If anything, I respect you more.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>When Thor looks up, a tear or two are on the verge of escaping, but he cocks his head a little like he does when he wants more explanation.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve sits across from his friend and picks up his fork. “Well, you went through all that, and you still took care of me every time I came home from a mission. Especially after she started coming, you </span>
  <span>coulda</span>
  <span> just as easily staying in your room, but you came out to help me anyway. And you took care of me when I got shot. You did a good job, too. And you’re gentle, and kind. One of the kindest people I’ve ever met.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor looks down at his food, new tears gathering in his eyes and pushing the others out. They </span>
  <span>rolls</span>
  <span> down his cheeks, which have quickly flushed away the pallor with a deep cherry red. Thor reaches for his neck as if to touch his hair, but there is none, so he threads his fingers through his short forelock and rests his forehead on his palm.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Now seems like an excellent time for a hug. Steve wastes no time getting up and walking around the table, wrapping his body around Thor’s and pulling his friend’s head into his chest. “I don’t expect you to believe me,” he says quietly, “but I’ll prove everything I said to you, and I’ll say them as many times as I have to. I am your friend, and as long as you want it, you have a home here with me. What happened wasn’t your fault, and you aren’t any less of a person because of it.” </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve</span>
  <span>’s prepared to write it in blood.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m so-” Thor starts to whimper, but cuts himself off, grabbing a handful of Steve’s </span>
  <span>shirt</span>
  <span>. “Thank you,” he sighs instead. “Thank you, Steve.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>How much strength did it take to say those words? A lot, Steve imagines. “You’re welcome,” he smiles, pulling back from the hug so his friend can see how proud he is. “Eat. You look like you’re about to collapse.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor actually smiles a little and wipes his eyes, nodding a little and </span>
  <span>picking</span>
  <span> up his fork. That food doesn’t spend long on the plate.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>--</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Things are better, but Steve still doesn’t have a plan, or any more information on what </span>
  <span>Thanos</span>
  <span> and these other Children (so they have been named) are like. What they’re capable of, what they want. He doesn’t want to burden Thor with this dilemma, but he needs to know a little bit more.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor is sat at the table slowly cutting apples. Ordinarily, Steve would suggest they watch some TV or play video games, but if his friend is suffering from a bad headache then staring at a screen won’t do him any good. Thor doesn’t want to go back to bed, either, so Steve keeps the snacks and fluids coming while they work on an apple pie.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Why was she punishing you?” Steve asks, as much as he wants to let the topic die a sudden death. Unfortunately, it can’t until the woman herself is dead. “What was the reason she gave?” This is a pot he’d rather not stir, since Thor has recovered so much since yesterday, but these issues can’t be left.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“T-too slow,” Thor slices an apple in half and sluggishly separates the pieces, lying them flat. “N-not making any progress. With the mission.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“The portal,” Steve says, and Thor nods. If it were something else, Steve might have offered to help Thor complete whatever task needed to be fulfilled so the woman would back off for a while (or maybe it wouldn’t have mattered).</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Was encouragement,” Thor swallows, staggering over that word. “To steal the tesseract back. I have no intention of doing so. Not anymore.” That last part comes a bit rushed, and Thor looks up nervously. Steve smiles back, fully believing that. Thor sighs and looks back at his apples. “She’s taking the supplies for the portal herself,” he goes on. “She intends to build it, and it would be my task to steal the tesseract when it is finished.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Fury’s words come back to him. Somewhere out there, this woman is taking parts for the portals right back from wherever SHIELD sent them, and she’s putting together that portal herself. Maybe with help. It can’t work without the tesseract, but even if Thor refuses to retrieve it, Steve doubts that will stop these people from getting it another way. It also means that this woman isn’t going to stop her... encouragements. God, that makes him feel sick.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>First and foremost, he has to protect Thor. After that, they can think more on what to do about this portal. Steve looks down into his pot of thickening sauce.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“How are you going to stop her...” Thor exhales, like all the fight has left him.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve looks over as he stirs. “Well,” he says quietly, "I don’t know yet, but I’ll think of something. You know what they used to call me back in the war?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Captain...?” Thor tries.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“The man with a plan,” Steve corrects. “Sometimes you </span>
  <span>gotta</span>
  <span> make it up as you go, and sometimes you have to work something out ahead of time, but we always got the job done. Most of all, I always had people to help me. Before I had a team, I had Peggy and Howard and Bucky. Then I had the Howling Commandos, and now I’ve got the Avengers, and you. If me and my friends have to stand in a circle to keep that bitch from touching you, we will. Even if you don’t want Loki to come near you, I’m sure he’d help too.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor shivers. “Midnight is powerful. So are the others.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“So are we,” Steve counters. “We’ve never seen her fight, but she’s never seen us, either, and we’ve got a few tricks up our sleeves. Let her bring her friends if she wants. I’m sure I could convince Fury to break out the big guns. Besides, we’ve got the Hulk. I don’t think she’d stand much chance against him.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“The Hulk...?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” Steve pauses. “Right. Well, let’s just say there’s more to Dr. Banner than meets the eye.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>--</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Now that he’s eaten, Thor looks much better. He can walk without stumbling into things, and he’s not nursing that headache anymore. Steve still keeps those fluids coming, along with the food. So far, Thor eats everything put in front of him, though he’s no longer in physical pain from starvation.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The atmosphere has undeniably changed, though Steve does his best to keep it the same. Thor is definitely still suffering, but he’s improving, and he hasn’t clammed up either. Steve can’t help but look at him differently, though truthfully it is with more pride. He does wonder what Thor’s mannerisms are defenses for, what’s happened to him over a century that’s shaped him. More than rape, though rape may certainly be the primary cause for any number of Thor’s defense mechanisms. His general silence, his </span>
  <span>perceived</span>
  <span> lack of worth, his previous aversion to touch and his recent needy acceptance of it. His fear of making a mistake lest he be delivered punishment. How long will it take to undo that conditioning?</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Luckily, Steve’s got the serum to make sure he has as much time as he needs. He hopes, at least. He hopes he doesn’t need whatever extra years the serum has given him to undo whatever can be undone. What if Thor never recovers? What if this is all the progress he’ll make? Compared to how he was when they first met, it’s undeniably a lot, but still not enough. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>After dinner, they both shower, Steve first. Later, when Thor emerges, he’s not wearing so many layers, though he does rather hastily slide under the covers when they both crawl into bed, pressing himself into Steve’s chest for safety. He’s only wearing his t-shirts now, which hug his biceps snugly. He’s a big guy, stronger than anyone Steve’s ever met, yet so broken and vulnerable at the same time. Steve holds him in the darkness and strokes his hair, soothing his friend off to sleep while he keeps watch for a few hours. It’s too early for him, but Thor is still recovering from that long list of ailments, and he needs the rest.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve lies awake all night, contemplating his options. When Thor starts to shake and mumble, Steve strokes his hair again, desperately reviewing his progress in his head in the hopes that he’ll stumble upon a better idea. Thor settles under Steve’s fingers each time, slowly sinking back into a deep and peaceful sleep, and it makes Steve want to cry.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Come on. Think.</span>
  </em>
  <span> The longer he spends thinking, the sooner Fury will call him out on another job. Steve will turn down the director if he has to, but he doesn’t want to leave his friends without the back-up they need, and he doesn’t want missions to be postponed. People’s lives could be at risk.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Eventually, Steve needs to sleep for himself. He squeezes Thor against him and shuts his eyes, napping through the last hour of darkness that the early sun has yet to purge away. Luckily, his own dreams don’t bother him. Maybe he’ll have some new ideas when he wakes...</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>--</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>They spend another two days together before Steve thinks of an idea.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor has physically recovered from his ordeal, and he seems more emotionally stable as well, though still reserved and uncertain. They play games, they cook, and they talk about mundane things, but of course that call comes, and Thor tenses in his seat, paling and trembling over his lunch.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve picks up.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Steve, we need you to come in. We’ve got intel that someone broke into a high-security weapons warehouse. They took </span>
  <span>civiliant</span>
  <span> hostages. It’s bad.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve holds still, staring across the table at Thor’s white face and his shoulders vibrating under his sweater. His friend’s lips are parted, and he’s starting to pant.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Rogers, do you copy. This is an emergency!” Fury barks.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Copy,” Steve says.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“There’ll be a car on the curb in twenty.” Fury hangs up.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve lowers the phone. Thor is already struggling to hold himself together. So many times, Steve’s left for a mission and Thor’s calmly sent him off, despite knowing what fate awaits him in the Captain’s absence. Today, he’s at the end of his rope. “Thor,” Steve gasps. “Thor, it’s alright. I’m not leaving you.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor lifts his head, confusion breaking through the panic.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re coming with me,” Steve says.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Fury won’t mind. Steve’s the Captain, anyway. He’s always done what he thinks is right, no matter what. And this is right.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor is already standing up. “I... Are you certain?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“If you want,” Steve smiles. “You can stay in the jet if you prefer, but-”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor nods. “I’ll come.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Good. I’ll get you some gear when we meet up at SHIELD for de-brief,” Steve grins. “You don’t have to fight-”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I would be proud to fight alongside you.” Thor stands taller and straighter than he has in weeks, raising his hand in a firm salute, just as he’s seen the others do in teasing to their Captain, but this one is serious.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve salutes back. “We’ll be proud to have you.”</span>
  
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Chapter 18</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Long one today... and all I can say is... uh oh.</p><p>For those of you interested, I repaired my issues with twitch, and hope to continue <a href="https://www.twitch.tv/sketchy_faye">weekend streams</a>! I will be updating with a specific time on my <a href="https://stormyandrescuer.tumblr.com/">tumblr</a> page, but I expect to schedule a time early Saturday for some drawin'!</p><p>Thanks as always for your support, and enjoy this long boi! I look forward to your feedback.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It amazes Thor that Steve would trust him on the battlefield, where lives are at risk. Not just of civilians and other agents, but of Steve himself and his friends. But here they are in a weapons locker, Steve clearing everyone else out so they can be alone. Nobody hesitates to obey Captain America, even out of uniform. That tone could command anyone.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Here, this should fit,” Steve grabbing a pair of dark combat pants from a shelf. “Uh... you look about a half size bigger than me, so, these should fit too.” He hands over some boots.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor takes them, and the shirt Steve gives him. He pulls his hoodie over his head, then his shirts. They’re alone, and it’s just Steve. It’s alright, though he does hastily put on the shirt that’s given to him. The fabric is comfortable, hugging his body. He considers putting his hoodie on over top, but Steve gives him a combat vest made of thick material and covered in pockets.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s bullet-proof,” Steve explains.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>It feels protective. Thor zips it up, peering at the SHIELD logo on the breast.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“What kind of weapons do you want?” Steve asks, handing over a belt. “I can give you a gun if you want...”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor shakes his head. That’s not his style. He’s much more suited to close-range fighting.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve hands him two sheathed blades instead. “How about these?” he suggests.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>That’s much more his style. Thor takes them and examines them. They’re a good length, though he can work with any size of edged weapon comfortably. </span>
  <span>Thanos</span>
  <span> is meticulous with his training. He nods.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve smiles. “Okay. I’ll just get dressed round the corner. Come find me when you’re done.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Gratefully, Thor nods. He’d rather take his pants off in private, and though he trusts Steve, he’s glad to have the option of privacy. Thor strips out of his sweats and pulls on the combat pants instead. He sits on a bench to lace up his boots, then snaps the belt around his waist and secures his blades to his thighs.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Familiar, but different. Today, he fights under a different flag, but that flag isn’t the SHIELD eagle – it’s the star on Steve’s shield and chest. When he walks around the corner, Steve is doing up his belt and picking up his shield, snapping it to his back.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You look good,” Steve sizes him up and tucks his helmet under his arm. “How does it feel? Does it all fit?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor nods. It feels like forever since he suited up for battle. Actually, he’s a little nervous; Steve will be counting on him. So will others, but mostly Steve. When this ends, he won’t be going home to them, he’ll be going home to Steve.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You can still stay on the jet if you prefer,” Steve offers, leading the way to the </span>
  <span>locker</span>
  <span> room door with confident strides. The suit shows off his broad shoulders, and contrasts his golden hair and smooth, pale skin. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor shakes his head, following the shield into the hallway, and down to the briefing room where the others are waiting. When they enter, Steve claims ownership of the room. Fury might be the director, but Steve is the Captain. A legend. A hero. Thor stays close, ignoring the others as they stare at his unannounced arrival, at his drastically different haircut, and at his uniform. At his weapons. They look to Steve next. Thor sees it from his peripheral, feels it in the room as they wait for an explanation.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve gives it before anyone has a chance to demand answers. “Thor’s coming today,” he says, but it’s an order. That order will not be questioned. “We could use another heavy hitter on our team today. He’ll follow my orders on the field.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Fury lifts an eyebrow. “This is a little spontaneous, Captain.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Sometimes the best plans are,” Steve doesn’t miss a beat. “And I trust him. We could really use his help today.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Everyone is wary, which they should be. Fighting alongside someone is a test of trust. Steve trusts him, but do the others? It’s a lot to ask, and if things go wrong, both Thor and Steve could be liable. The whole team. Fury too.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess it’s your call, Captain,” Fury sighs and slides some pieces of paper into the middle of the table. Everyone gathered leans a little closer – all four of the other Avengers are here, Tony wearing his suit with the helmet pulled back, the spies geared up, and Bruce in a shirt and some stretchy-looking pants. All of them are hesitant, but keep silent on whatever </span>
  <span>apprehension</span>
  <span> they have; they trust Steve.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“The warehouse is heavily armed and guarded,” Fury goes on. “They’ve got hostages in the bottom floor which must be rescued at all costs. As far as we know, none of them have been harmed or killed, but that could change. As soon as we go in there, we put them in danger, so we need to be fast.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve nods along, taking mental notes. Thor can see the soldier’s brain sucking up every scrap of info and </span>
  <span>organizing</span>
  <span> it in silence.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“There are twenty floor total,” Fury goes on, and they all look down at the printed plans spread across the table. “There is an elevator and stairwell in each quadrant, and an extra central stairwell. It’s larger, but more exposed. Our intel says that there are plenty of gangways from top to bottom, with limited lighting in places.” Steve and Clint make eye contact. “Weapons are stored on all twenty floors, the bigger, more powerful ones at the bottom. Their computer system is advanced-” Tony snorts, “- but it shouldn’t take long to dismantle,” Fury goes on, ignoring the inventor.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Anything else we should know?” Steve asks, straightening and looking the director in the eyes.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s all your, Captain. Jet’s ready to leave when you are.” Fury gathers the papers.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s go,” Steve nods, turning to lead the way. Thor falls into step beside him, keeping pace. Whatever his place in this turns out to be, he’s going to do his very best.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Since the mission where Steve got shot, his suit has been repaired: the spot on his shoulder is revealed when the soldier takes his shield from his back to sit down. Thor immediately takes the place at his side while the others file in and Fury sits in the cockpit.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The last time Thor was on one of these jets, he was cuffed, with most of these faces present to guard him.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Here’s the plan,” Steve says once everyone is seated and buckled. “Clint, I want you in the rafters keeping track of strays, watching our six, and relaying info. Nat, you and I will rescue the prisoners and get them out through a back door where SHIELD will evacuate them. As soon as the enemy is alerted that we’re here, they’ll go straight to the hostages, and we can’t risk their safety. As soon as they’re on their way out, Tony, Thor, I want you to take care of the hostiles. They’ll be heavily armed, so watch out. Everyone will update the situation over the comms, and Nat and I will come back to help once the hostages are safe. We’ll call for Code Green if we need it, as usual.” He nods to Bruce.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Everyone copies, and earpieces are handed around. Thor follows the others and pushes his into his ear, turning it on. This is not something the Children ever did, nor the warriors of </span>
  <span>Asgard</span>
  <span> when he used to fight with them. He supposes it makes sense, when the plan requires them to be separated. If Thor needs help, he could ask for it at any time... Likewise, if someone needs his help, he’ll know. All of them are connected now just as he and Steve were when Steve gave him a phone. Well... it’s not exactly the same...</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Twenty minutes until landing,” Fury announces.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>It’s been more than two months since he was last in a battle, and in twenty minutes he’s going to be dropping into a high-stakes rescue op alongside people he’s never fought with before. Sure, he’s fought </span>
  <em>
    <span>against</span>
  </em>
  <span> a couple of them... Can that count?</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Ready?” Steve’s knee nudges against his. “Still not too late to tap out,” he says quietly enough that the others won’t hear him over their chatting.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Never. Thor shakes his head defiantly. Steve is protecting him from Midnight, so the least he can do is lend a hand. Sounds like they could use the help anyway.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Tony puts his helmet on and it seals over his head. “Getting ready to hack that back door open for </span>
  <span>ya</span>
  <span> Cap. Soon as we’re in range, JARVIS will pop that lid.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve nods and straps on his own helmet, falling serious as he slides his shield onto his arm. </span>
  <span>Natasha</span>
  <span> gets up from her bench and stands beside him. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Ready to jump?” Fury asks.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Copy,” Steve agrees, walking toward the ramp.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“That back door’s unlocked whenever you’re ready,” Tony announces.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Entering the drop zone now, Cap,” Fury reaches for the controls.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“See you inside,” Steve looks around at all of them, but holds on Thor. “I’ll give the order to attack when those hostages are out.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Copy Cap,” Tony says, and the others agree.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Be safe,” Thor says on auto, so used to saying it when the soldier walks out the door.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I will,” Steve smiles, and the ramp unlocks with a click, hissing its way open. Natasha tucks herself under the soldier’s arm, and they leap right out of the jet. Thor peers through the gap, watching Steve control their fall and protect them with his shield as they land straight into thick treetops. He loses sight of them as the ramp closes again.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>His guardian is gone. Thor touches his ear, around his link to the soldier. The others are trying hard not to stare at him, struggling to behave naturally. It’s better than the unapologetic abandonment he receives from the Children. Thor looks at his hands, wondering if he should have asked to stay on the jet instead. What if he messes up? What if he messes up, and someone gets hurt for it?</span>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Too late to turn back,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he supposes, gathering his resolve; there is no room for hesitation on the battlefield. He needs to be certain he belongs here, or he will </span>
  <em>
    <span>definitely</span>
  </em>
  <span> make a mistake. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Safely landed,” Steve’s calm voice filters through the earpiece. “Approaching the facility now.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Be safe.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Thor shuts his eyes for a moment or two. The jet dips down and slows, lowering out of the sky. He opens his eyes again, anticipating the opening of the ramp, and follows his adoptive team into the forest. Fury flies away with Banner.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Clint looks over, drawing his bow and unfolding it with a snap. “Nice haircut,” he remarks with a smile. “Steve says he cuts his own hair. He do yours too?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor nods mutely.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Looks good.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” Thor murmurs.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The archer turns to Tony. “Cutting hair, huh? Weird super-power to have... Is there anything he can’t do with the serum? Could he cut hair before?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Tony shrugs inside the suit. “I </span>
  <span>dunno</span>
  <span>, maybe.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The pair go on, and Thor smiles to himself. No, the serum hasn’t made Steve capable of everything. Truthfully, Thor doesn’t know the extent of its </span>
  <span>effects</span>
  <span> on the soldier, but he does know that it didn’t give Steve his observant eyes or his kind smile. Thor rubs his hand fondly up the back of his head – the serum didn’t give him this haircut.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Entering the back door now,” Steve relays. “All clear so far.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The uncertainty regarding Steve’s safety is removed now, at least. Thor knows where the soldier is, and if he’s alright. No more waiting around at home pondering. They’re still separated, and Steve could still go and get himself shot, but at least Thor is here to prevent that if he can.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Hostages secured,” Natasha speaks up this time. “No casualties. We’re moving them out. Have the jet ready.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Copy,” Fury agrees. Thor stands ready, as do the other two, who stop their quiet chatting and ready themselves for battle.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Clear, Iron Man!” Steve calls.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Time to flush out these sewer rats,” Tony agrees, his </span>
  <span>repulsors</span>
  <span> firing up. He lifts off the ground. “Need a ride, Legolas?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure,” Clint wraps his arms around Tony’s neck. The inventor looks over, but Thor waves him off; he can keep up. “Okay, let’s go, people! JARVIS, get me that front warehouse door open!”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Iron Man flies out of the trees toward the warehouse, and Thor follows on-foot. The second he emerges, he can see the building, its </span>
  <span>front loading</span>
  <span> door sliding open to invite them inside. The men inside drop what they’re doing and draw their weapons, yelling to each other. Thor holds up his arms to protect his face, but Tony drops low and rolls in the air, catching a round of bullets with his armored back. Panels in his suit open up and release a handful of missiles, which fly through the opening and detonate, throwing enemies left and right. Tony sets down his friend, and Clint runs through fire and smoke into the building, vanishing into the rafters as was the plan.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>There’s lots of space to move around, and fly in Tony’s case. Metal shelves store weapons of all kinds, and there are a few hallways leading to various offices and other rooms. Most of the floor is made of steel grating, and there’s a huge open shaft in the middle where a metal staircase wraps around, leading right to the bottom. While Tony does loops firing shots at enemies he can see, Thor slips into the shelving and draws his blade. There are only humans, and they won’t be a match for him. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>They can’t sneak up on him either, not even through the explosions; Thor touches the metal shelf beside him and feels the approach of feet through it. He whips around and grabs a gun by the barrel, twisting hard enough to dent the weapon and break the man’s wrist. Thor kicks him back, and that’s enough to kill him. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor looks around, spotting movement through the shelving. He looks up, and leaps up in one neat jump. Thor pulls in his legs and pushes himself over with one hand, dropping to the other side and landing right on the enemy. Among the explosions, the small stifled yelp from the hostile isn’t enough to alert anyone nearby. Thor frees his knife and drops the body.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve got a cluster of heat signatures moving up to the top floor,” Tony warns. “I’d say about ten men.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor can’t bring himself to open his mouth to copy, but his feet are already moving him through the shelving to the corner where he knows there’s a stairwell. A couple of men wielding machine guns step into his path, but he’s too fast – by the time bullets are being fired, he’s already past the barrels, and his other blade is firmly grasped in his hand. Highly-trained or not, those men would never be able to match his speed and strength. Unhindered, Thor finishes them off and runs to the stairwell, ripping off the door, jumping over the railing, and dropping several floors in one go.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Copy,” Barton is saying in response to Stark. “I got eyes on them.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor keeps moving toward the target just in case, hopping down another flight, but the archer has already taken care of it: through the nearby door leading to the fifth level, warm orange light erupts, and the ground trembles from the explosion. Thor kicks the door off its frame and runs through some shelving, throwing enemies aside as he does. The shaft in the middle of the building is full of smoke and glowing embers, and the stair case hangs in mid-air, a huge section torn away. The group of enemies that were running up is scattered, some thrown aside onto this level, some fallen below, and one man dangling from the scorched metal. It’s burning his hands, and he falls with a cry. Thor moves through the level, finishing off those that he finds, including a hostile lying on his chest, already dying from the explosion. Thor ends him quickly.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He peers down through the shaft, through the smoke and flickering lights. People are moving down there, but he can’t tell what they’re up to. Quietly, he hops down, using the cover of smoke to shield himself.  He rolls to cushion his landing and silence it, ducking behind more shelving to watch and listen. The enemy abandons their fallen comrades, leaving the dead or dying to prepare a retaliatory attack. Thor skirts around the emergency lighting and jogs to the back wall, wrapping his fingers around the edge of one shelving unit and pulling it. It submits to his strength, the bolts securing it to the floor snapping and the whole shelf toppling forward. Thor moves back, following their collapse as one shelf knocks another, and another, and another, until all the shelves in that quadrant have fallen, the impact straining the floor by the shaft when the last shelf falls. Enemies dart into the other rows of shelving all around, and Thor ducks back into the shadow, following the back wall to a section of shelving still upright. Bullets tear into the space he was just standing, sweeping toward him. Thor ducks, and the spray of bullets pelts the shelving protecting him. A few make it through to the wall behind, but too far above him. They’re just guessing.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The bullets stop, and Thor keeps moving deeper into the shelving, where the enemies are hiding and waiting. He’s among them before they realize, diving into their midst to begin his purge. Bullets start to fly, and the enemy doesn’t mind hitting their own men to chance a hit on Thor. Thor does his best to anticipate those bullets, and some of them strike the hostiles behind him. A bullet hits him in the chest, but the vest Steve gave him stops it before it can touch skin. Would it have killed him? Unlikely. Maybe it wouldn’t have even slowed him down, but he’s glad not to have to deal with that.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>This level is purged. Thor slips back into the shadows to watch and listen for his next target.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey Stark, something’s coming your way,” Natasha says over the comms. “Hostages are secure. Just got back inside and a load of weapons crates are open. Expect some heavy fire. We’ll try to intercept them, but they have a head-start.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Copy that,” Clint says </span>
  <span>coolly</span>
  <span>. “I’m ready.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Same here,” Tony agrees.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor peers down the shaft through the clearing smoke. They must be taking the stairwells. Besides, this central staircase is destroyed. No normal human would be able to leap that high. Not loaded down with a large weapon at least.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Guys-!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Steve yells a warning over the comms, but he’s cut off. The floor buckles under Thor, and he barely has a chance to scamper backward as a missile shoots through the grating. It clips the floor above, then sails up through the shaft unhindered. It strikes the ceiling far above with a bang, raining fire and chunks of rafters onto them. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor searches through the flames as they come toward him, only moving once he sees Iron Man flying safely through all of it. In search of the archer, he imagines.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Clint!” Tony yells.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Report!” Steve yells too.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor runs into the stairwell in the corner to take refuge as flaming debris destroys the floors above, a few pieces making it as far down as the one he’s on.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Tony here!”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Nat here.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Steve here, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Barton!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Here!” Clint’s voice comes through the comms, and Thor breathes a quiet sigh of relief. Everyone is alright.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Thor?” Steve calls.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Here,” Thor hurriedly responds, and he hears a little sigh from the Captain.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“They’re trying to burry us,” Steve explains. “We’re coming up. Everybody needs to get out and watch the exits.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor sheathes his blades and walks cautiously toward the shaft, peering down. He can almost see the very bottom floor, and the people moving around down there, but whoever’s loading these weapons must be away from the shaft, because he can’t spot them.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Thor!” Steve’s voice comes from behind instead of through the earpiece. Thor turns around and spots his friend and Natasha peering out from the stairwell, unharmed. “Come on,” the Captain urgently gestures. “There are at least six guys down there setting up rocket launchers. We can’t stop them all from shooting.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“What floor?” Thor asks darkly, resting his hand on his thigh and standing in front of the doorway, but making no moves to follow Steve up the steps.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Thor, no. Let them bury themselves. That’s what they want, to take us with them,” Steve sternly demands, reaching up his hand. “Hurry!” He nudges Natasha up ahead of him, and she starts to hop up the steps two at a time. “Thor! That’s an order!”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve’s right. Thor takes his hand away from his knife and steps one foot across the threshold.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>A speaker nearby crackles, and a voice echoes through the warehouse. “Avengers,” a man speaks. Thor stops and turns, scanning the level. “I would like to inform you that I have in my custody another hostage you failed to rescue.” Thor can hear the sounds of people talking gruffly in the background while a girl cries and pleads. His hand rests back on his knife. “Any signs of your advancement, and she dies.” The girl frantically cries again. Even through the crackly speaker, Thor can hear the other men shushing her. He wonders how old she is.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Let me handle this,” Steve slips past Thor and walks onto the grating, looking around. “Return the girl to us unharmed, and we’ll let you go!” he yells.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Rogers!</span>
  </em>
  <span> We don’t </span>
  <span>negotiate</span>
  <span> with terrorists!” Fury interjects over the comms.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve ignores him. “Bring her to us, and we’ll let you go!”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor looks around, down at the shaft a few feet away, surrounded by debris and bodies and collapsed shelving, then up through the grating. Embers are still drifting down, and fire is crackling. Something pops, probably weapons catching on fire. They get no reply.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Cap, we got a chopper landing on the rooftop,” Tony says. “I’d get up here if I were you.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Move, Avengers, and the girl dies,” the man warns. “I want Iron Man on the ground.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Stark, do as he </span>
  <span>says</span>
  <span>!” Steve orders.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Where are they? Thor looks around. He’s not an Avenger, technically. Those who saw him are dead, so he doubts anyone is expecting him. Any fire or destroyed walkways won’t be a problem for him.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Steve, let me look for her!” Natasha calls. “I can find her. He won’t see me coming.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve opens his mouth as he looks around the carnage. “Nat-”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Helicopter’s landing!” Tony shouts. “If you’re </span>
  <span>gonna</span>
  <span> do something, Cap, do it!”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Tony must be outside, where he’s visible, so he can’t just fly off and sort this out without putting the hostage in danger. They can’t stand around. They need to make a choice. Thor quietly walks past Steve and looks up the shaft. A piece of dangling stairway mocks him, smoke and fire almost entirely blocking out a small hole in the ceiling far above where a blue sky waits for them.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Thor...” Steve warns. He doesn’t have time to gives orders, because another missile explodes below them and rattles the grating beneath their feet. This warehouse is going to be a fiery pit of debris in a little while, and a makeshift grave if they don’t move. There are a few more smaller explosions, no doubt as stored rounds catch fire.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Two men are getting out of the chopper!” Tony keeps relaying.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Copy,” Thor says. That’s what you say when you understand the information and </span>
  <span>undertake</span>
  <span> the task required to rectify it, right? That’s how you make claim to the issue, and vow to stop it.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Thor-!” Steve’s eyes are widening, and he looks caught between worry and anger.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Well, Thor’s not about to let him run right into fire. That’s just the type of thing a self-sacrificing moron would do, which Steve very much is. Thor points to the stairwell. “They must be on the top floor,” he reasons. “He would not start those missile attacks while still too far down himself. He’ll go for the helicopter.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve takes that logic and starts to run ahead, lunging up the steps like a gazelle. Another missile rocks the building, bringing more sections of the flooring down. As they run past the doors to the second floor, the glass explodes. Steve throws up his shield to protect them, and they hop up the last flight to the top level. Their initial entrance point through the loading doors is tightly blocked with fallen shelves, and the roof has collapsed onto the flaming heap. Not even a super-soldier could lift that off, even if it weren’t aflame. That torn hole in the roof is big enough to reach though. Thor stares across the gash in the floor to the other side, through a haze of smoke and fire. He knows there are offices on that side. Maybe he should have explored them at the start, and they wouldn’t be here, but that’s behind them. He’ll undo that mistake. Some more ammunition on the other side of the gap explodes, throwing chunks of metal flying their way. Again, Steve protects them both with his shield, and when the danger passes, Thor rips the disk from the soldier’s hand and hurls it.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Hey-!</span>
  </em>
  <span>" Steve yells as his shield flies through the gap in the ceiling, but he’s cut off by Thor’s hand wrapping around his shield harness and throwing him too. Thor’s strong enough to send Steve sailing safely out of the building and into clear sky, his friend’s angry, startled yelling vanishing through the hole.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Good. Steve’s safe now. Thor walks back a few steps, and takes a running leap at the gap in the floor. He sails over it and lands in the flames, quickly rolling to extinguish them before they can do much damage. Mostly his clothes suffer, and he keeps moving. The smoke is clogging his lungs, but he can keep functioning without proper oxygen for a long time. Thor holds his breath so at least he won’t be tempted to cough and slinks through the chaos. He picks up a fallen beam blocking his path and throws it down into the void behind.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>This quadrant isn’t so badly hit. The strikes from below have been keeping away from it, mostly. Once the enemy and the girl are out, he doubts that will last. Thor almost draws his knife, but thinks better of it; better not to stab anyone in the presence of the girl. She’s a child, from the sounds she was making over the speakers earlier.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The smoke is faint through these corridors, so Thor draws breath again, and keeps his senses peeled. With the continuous sounds of the warehouse falling apart behind and beneath him, and the vibrations caused by that, he has to rely on his eyes. Luckily, he spots a light ahead, shining through a small window in an office door. He can hear voices, too. The door handle turns, and Thor ducks into one office down, and opposite. He keeps close to the doorframe and listens. The men are growling at each other, and at the girl who’s crying as they drag her along. He can hear her small feet stumbling to keep up, and the clicking of firearms.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re near the hatch,” the leader, </span>
  <span>presumably</span>
  <span>, says. “Fire the rest.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The ground is already rippling like it’s going to collapse. Thor looks down the hallway at the parade of men turning a corner, the young girl held in the middle, four men at the back looking around with weapons at the ready, and two more at the front. One of them is talking into a radio. Thor waits until the last man has turned the corner before following. He runs, risking extra speed while the ambient noise covers any he makes.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Around the corner is a steel ladder and a hatch, no doubt leading to the helicopter waiting on the roof. Thor darts around the corner and jumps on the man at the back, grabbing him by the collar of his tactical gear and his belt, and throwing him so hard against the wall that he doesn’t get up. The men turn and point their weapons at him, spraying him with bullets. Most of them hit his vest, but their impact, and even the ones that strike flesh, don’t slow him down. Thor raises his arms to protect his head and runs right into the bullets, scattering the men and throwing himself over the girl before anyone can turn a weapon on her.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Inside!” he yells, shielding her with his body and kicking open the door to the office right by them. He pushes her inside. “Take cover!” She scrambles away, shivering under a desk. Thor rips the door off its hinges and swings it around, clocking two men at once. He throws it and gets a third.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The leader is struggling to climb the ladder as fast as he can, trying to yell into his radio to call off his men in the bottom of the building firing missiles, but dropping the device in his panic. Thor grabs him by the ankle and pulls him down, throwing him so hard his leg pops out. Another blast rocks the floor beneath their feet, throwing them up a few inches, and dropping them again. Thor balances himself easily and leaps forward, swinging his leg around. His neat kick throws the man back, and he hits the wall with a crack and a spurt of blood. The floor rocks again, and this time it cracks.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Thor!” Steve’s yelling over the earpiece. “Get out of there! It’s going down!”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor ducks as a chunk of ceiling comes loose, nearly clocking him in the head. It’d have dazed him for sure. He runs back into the office and pushes the desk out of the way, kneeling in front of the little girl. She’s very young, her wispy blonde hair a mess and her pink clothes rumpled. There are bruises on her arms where the men have dragged her, and scrapes on her knees, but otherwise she looks alright. Thor opens his hands. “I will get you to safety,” he promises. He gives her a soft smile, remembering the smile Steve’s given to reassure him in the recent past.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The little girl stares at him, at the scar of his eye, at his dark clothes and the blood and soot all over him, but she nods and wipes her eyes, shaking. Thor zips up her jumper and tucks it over her mouth and nose, guiding her little hand to hold it. “Hang on,” he scoops her up, and she’s light as a feather.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The floor buckles under them, and Thor jumps to safety as the girl screams into her jumper, her eyes squeezing shut and her other hand grabbing his vest. Thor runs as the roof comes down, the </span>
  <span>helicopter</span>
  <span> with it. The blades cut through the ceiling as the pilot tries to fly away, but its already too late. Thor turns the corner, out of the way of the blades, and pulls the girl’s head into his shoulder to protect her from the shower of dry wall, ceiling tiles, and glass. His whole hand swallows her head. If he runs this way, he’ll come to the stairwell in this quadrant, and he’s certain there’s a side door there. He can break that down easily.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Another missile tears through the floor below them, and Thor barely escapes impalement by a glowing steel pole flying like a javelin.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>His plans are foiled when he finds the stairwell, the whole staircase having collapsed and fire licking hungrily up instead. Thor looks over and spots the hole in the roof where he threw Steve. The hole below is much large now, and he can’t risk throwing the girl in case he misses, or she lands too hard once through. Steve can handle that sort of impact, but she can’t. She’s sobbing hysterically into his vest. Thor rubs her head with his hand as he looks around, blinking away tears as the smoke irritates his eyes and tickles his throat. Another section of ceiling collapses on the other side of the hole, crushing the grating and buckling it. The floor and everything on it tumbles into the fiery pit below. A box explodes to his left, so he turns on his heel and gets to his knee, wrapping his body around the girl and drawing her legs in. He covers her head with one hand, and protects his own with the other. Smoldering debris pelts his back, but the pieces are too small to knock him over.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>When the barrage stops, he reassesses his environment. Without the girl, he would just try that jump, but he needs both hands. Thor carefully sits her fragile body on his knee and brushes some hair glued to her face with tears out of the way. She stares at him with watery blue eyes, still holding her jumper over her nose and mouth. “I’m going to get you out of here,” Thor promises. “But I need your help. Can you hang on to me?” The little girl nods. Thor smiles at her. “Hold on as tight as you can, and don’t let go.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>She lets go of her jumper, reluctantly prying her other hand from his vest so he can help her clamber onto his back. He would rather have her against his chest so he can protect her, but she’ll die he doesn’t make this jump. He’s certainly not putting her down so he can try to smash through the wall. The girl tightly wraps her arms around his neck, and he guides her legs around his waist. She clutches him as hard as she can, and even though she’s basically strangling him, that’s fine. So long as she doesn’t slip. He’ll be long free of this place before lack of oxygen becomes dangerous. Thor wipes smoke from his eyes and looks up at the gash in the roof. He makes a run for it, and jumps.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The force of his boots pushing off snaps the weakened grating, but he’s already flying toward the hole, hands reaching for the ragged edge. The roof slumps as he’s reaching, a beam coming loose and swinging toward him. Thor turns his body and catches it on his shoulder, scrambling to grab it with his other hand before he starts to fall again. His fingers clutch the metal, and though it’s one of the few things not on fire, it’s too slippery to grip. His palm slips, and he throws up his other arm for a dangling cable nearby. The beam groans and the bolts snap, dropping it and him away from the hole. Thor whips out his hands for something else to grab, and he manages to grasp another pole, but he slides right off that one as well. The girl screams.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The blocked entrance rips open, and a green shape barrels through the flames with a roar. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Code Green.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Code Green is a man... man-</span>
  <span>ish</span>
  <span>. That’s a human face growling at him as he falls, and human hands catching him, but not in human proportions. Thor plucks the girl from his back and wraps his arms around her as he falls into the grasp of a pulsing, muscly creature. Unbothered by the fire, or the huge gaps, or really anything, the green monster carries them into the sunlight as the roof comes down and drops the rest of the building into the hole. It’s gone. The helicopter, the men, everything. All gone.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The monster lets them down in the grass, dropping them roughly, but still more gently than Thor expected. He lands on his back with a grunt, clutching the girl who’s still crying relentlessly. He sits up and holds her, panting fresh air as the monster lopes off.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve’s the first over, the others close by and the surrounding area quickly filling with aerial vehicles. Thor can’t see all that well, but he can see the blurry shape of turning rotors, and what looks like their jet, plus a couple others. Tony is there, his red-and-gold suit soot-stained but still shiny, the blue light glowing in the chest. His helmet comes off as he stands over Steve’s shoulder, Clint at his side. Steve’s pulled his helmet off too, his hair a sweaty mess and his eyes full of worry.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Is she okay?” he asks. More people are running over, wearing uniforms and carrying bags. Thor gently pulls the girl off his chest. She’s breathing and conscious, running out of energy to sob, but not to cling to him. She’s sooty and coughing, but he’s sure she’ll be alright. Thor nods up at his friend. Steve’s blue eyes shine brightly through the rings of soot around them, worried and </span>
  <em>
    <span>angry</span>
  </em>
  <span> and so, </span>
  <em>
    <span>so</span>
  </em>
  <span> proud, but he’s okay too.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor sighs and coughs, taking the hand Steve offers him and standing. He cradles the girl, quickly steadying her with his other hand. A man and a woman in dark blue uniforms reach for her. He looks at Steve, and the Captain nods, so he lets them take her. They wrap her in a blanket and carry her off.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on,” Steve gestures. “Everybody back on the jet.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor looks around, but he can’t see the green monster, or Natasha. Did she make it out? He frantically reaches for Steve. “Nat-” His throat is full of smoke, cutting him off with coughs. Steve’s hand lands on his shoulder.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“She’s alright,” he reassures. “Taking care of Bruce. They’ll be along soon. You, on the other hand, are a mess.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The others are smiling at him, appraising him with approval. Clint gives Steve’s arm a shove as he walks off with Tony back to the jet. “Don’t be too hard on him, Cap. You’re the one who’s rubbed off on him.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Yes, this is just the sort of foolish thing Steve would do. But Thor is stronger. Sure, Steve is strong, but not as much. Besides, it would be Thor who is the moron had he let Steve charge into that with his brightly-colored shield to alert the enemy.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve leads him back aboard the jet and sits him on the bench, throwing his helmet and shield on a shelf. He pulls off his gloves and takes the long cannister Tony hands him, uncoiling some tubing. “Here,” he offers up a clear plastic mask, guiding it over Thor’s mouth and nose. “Deep breaths.” Steve turns the valve, and sweet, clean oxygen floods into his face. It’s beautiful release for his lungs, and though he may be tough, he still needs to breathe. It certainly aids his cough.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>While Steve rummages around for other supplies and gets up to help Natasha lead an exhausted-looking Bruce aboard, Thor makes eye-contact with Fury from the pilot’s seat. It’s brief, but long enough for the director to give him a small nod of approval. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a strange amount of laughter filling the jet as they take off, masking the tension that they came a little too close to losing that girl. That’s what Thor imagines it is, at least. He can tell that they’re tense. Bruce is slumped under a blanket listening to music through a large pair of headphones, Natasha sat protectively at his side, guarding him from the others while adding her own remarks to their bantering.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve sits beside Thor, some supplies in his hands. “Arm?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Obediently, Thor lets Steve take his arm and wipe some of the soot and blood away. His handful of bullets wounds have already stopped bleeding, the bullets either pushes out, or gone right through to begin with. They aren’t bothering him that much, but Steve covers them in gauze and wraps them with tape. The others are watching quietly, and when Thor looks anxiously up at them, he’s not met with anything other than concern and pride. They’re impressed. He did well.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Drink,” Steve orders, exchanging the oxygen for a bottle of cold water. While Thor drinks, the soldier swaps sides and covers those wounds too. They probably don’t need it, but they feel better covered than stinging in the open air. He doesn’t mind Steve’s </span>
  <span>ministrations</span>
  <span> anyway, and it seems to be the soldier’s way of unwinding. If it makes him feel better, let him.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, nice work!” Thor looks up just in time to catch a granola bar thrown at his head by Tony.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“More water here too, if you want some,” Natasha smiles at him, and taps beside her. There’s a case just above where she’s sitting full of bottles.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Clint puts the oxygen away and gives him a smile.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>A shoulder nudges his. Thor looks over at Steve’s smiling face. The anger is gone. “You okay?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor nods. Yes, he is. Sore, and his back stings pretty badly now that he’s not preoccupied with collapsing buildings and crying children, or his slight oxygen deprivation.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve’s head turns against the back wall where he’s rested it, and the soldier notices his back, his eyes quickly returning to stare demandingly at Thor. Steve opens his mouth and sits up.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s alright,” Thor reassures. Nothing can be done for it here on the jet without taking off his shirt and vest, which isn’t happening here. “Later.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Bless him, Steve understands. The soldier nods and shuffles a little closer. Thor closes the distance and presses their shoulders together, giving in to his need for proximity. Steve seems keen on it too. Their hands fall into the small gap between their thighs, Steve’s on top. Worriedly, Steve starts to pull it back, looking over. Thor smiles softly back and wraps his index around the soldier’s, pulling the hand back down. This is fine. </span>
  <em>
    <span>More</span>
  </em>
  <span> than fine. Relieved, Steve leans back and laces his fingers tightly with Thor’s. Thor squeezes back, wishing he could feel some remorse for the worry he caused, but he can’t. He wasn’t about to let Steve run into the fire, and he wasn’t going to let that girl die or be taken. He feels no guilt for his choices, though he is touched that Steve is so tightly hanging on.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>--</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I still can’t believe you did that.” Steve gently chastises as he organizes some supplies behind him.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor smiles a little to himself. Is it really so hard to believe? Especially coming from Steve, who was about to go do it himself. They’re in the medical bay of the tower now, all their stuff waiting in a bag on the floor. Steve’s already changed into some clean clothes and is pulling over a tray of supplies to the bed Thor is patiently sitting on facing the wall.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll just cut this off if that’s alright...” Steve says, leaning around so they can see each other and holding up a pair of scissors. “Want a blanket or a towel or something?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>No, he’s alright. Thor shakes his head. He trusts Steve, and they’re alone in this room. No-one else is going to walk through that door; the rest of the team is already getting set up for an evening of eating and games. Tony even asked what his favorite food is, to which Thor wasn’t able to give a reply. Tony can’t acquire apple pie made together with Steve. Luckily, the inventor didn’t push an answer from his silence, proclaiming he would get ‘one of everything’ just in case and cheerfully running off to help the others set up video games.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve slides his fingers under the ruined shirt and vest, pulling them away from the skin so he can get the scissors safely underneath. They shear right through the fabrics to the top, some patches where its glued to him tugging painfully. Thor winces and lifts his arms, but Steve makes two more cuts and everything slides right off. Thor plucks his clothes off his chest and dumps them at his side, staring at how scorched and ruined they are.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you sure it doesn’t hurt...?” Steve presses. “I can try to find you something before I start... Who knows, it might help.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor stalls. Steve may be a safe space to be honest, but he really doesn’t know how to express the way his body feels. The pain is seeping back in, but he’s coping with it. He’s never needed relief before (not that he’s ever been afforded it – not for a century, at least, but even on </span>
  <span>Asgard</span>
  <span> warriors were encouraged to be private with their pain).</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve knows him too well, and he knows how to find answers in silence. He knows how to search other avenues to find what he needs. The soldier doesn’t give up. “Here,” he slides his arm past Thor’s side and into his hand. “One to five, how much does it hurt? Tap your fingers.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor curls his fingers around Steve’s wrist. The skin is soft and most of the dirt has been scrubbed off. He taps with one finger then </span>
  <span>lets</span>
  <span> go, wishing he could hold on but knowing his friend needs both hands. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“If you’re sure...” Steve offers, drawing away his arm. “I’ll start if you’re ready.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor nods, crossing his legs and leaning forward to draw the skin taught across his back. He grabs the sheets to steady himself. Whatever comes, he can take it. Worse has been done to him by people without a shred of consideration toward him. If he can get through that, he can get through this.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Tap the mattress if you want me to </span>
  <span>stop,“</span>
  <span> Steve suggests, ripping open some packaging. “I’m going to touch your shoulder, okay?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Yes, that’s alright. Steve’s hands aren’t to restrain or hurt him. They’re only here to help, have only ever been. With absolute trust, he nods and steels himself.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve’s steadying hand wraps around his shoulder, holding him steady while the tweezers dig a chunk of fabric out of his back. Grateful he’s facing away, Thor winces and controls his breathing. Burns are one of the most painful kinds of injuries, the sort that sting for hours after they’ve been treated, and when they aren’t hurting, they itch. Ripping out whatever bits of his shirt are left behind tears open the skin again, deep enough to bleed in some cases – he can feel it running down his back in thin rivulets that Steve delicately dabs up.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>No matter how gentle Steve is, it still hurts. Thor bites his lip, determined to tough it out, but the </span>
  <span>tense  muscles</span>
  <span> in his shoulders, a flex of his back, and a soft grunt he can’t contain give him away. Steve’s hand lifts off his shoulder and nudges Thor’s wrist. Thor lets go of the sheets, and his friend’s hand slides back into his grip. This time, he taps with three fingers.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, one second,” Steve pulls away and walks away. “I think we’ve got some morphine around here... You okay with drugs?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>That one, Thor’s really not sure with. He fiddles with his fingers, scraping some blood from under his nails and shrugging faintly.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve walks around in front, taking a pole with him and hanging a bag of clear fluid and some coiled tubing on the hook. He smiles sympathetically. “It might take the edge off the pain,” he explains. “If your metabolism is as fast as mine then it won’t get rid of it, but it should help a little if I pump you with enough. Might make your head feel funny, that’s all. Maybe a little dizzy, too. I can look for something else if you’re not sure.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor rubs his head. All that smoke has birthed an ache behind his eyes, and it’s moving around to his ears. He licks his lips and stares at the bag. Ultimately, he trusts Steve, so he nods. Steve would never do something to hurt him, or take advantage of him.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve pulls over another cart and starts arranging more supplies, wiping Thor’s hand clean and holding up a needle. “Still okay?” He opens his palm and waits. Thor lays his hand in Steve’s and nods. “Okay, don’t look.” He won’t. Thor shuts his eyes. “Small prick.” Steve doesn’t lie. The needle is set with a click, and Steve tapes it down.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor opens his eyes and looks at the tape neatly laid across his hand, then up at Steve as the soldier connects up the line and flushes it with fluid before twisting it onto the port in Thor’s hand.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“The fluid might help too,” Steve pulls a couple of bottles off the tray and wipes the tops, laying them out and tearing open a package of syringes. “Don’t worry, these go in the line.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>That’s good to know. Interested, Thor watches Steve push the syringe into the bottles, adding fluid into each and pushing on the plunger to mix them before drawing the mixture back and adding it to the next. When it’s all inside the syringe, he pierces the needle into a small rubber port on the bottom of the bag and pushes it all in.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Just wait a second, then tell me if you feel anything,” Steve picks up the line and fiddles with a plastic dial. The drip chamber starts to drip.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Cold...” Thor murmurs as the fluid rushes up his arm. So distracted, he’d momentarily forgotten about his pain, but now that Steve’s reminded him, he focuses on it. “Nothing yet...”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve turns the dial again, increasing the speed of the drips. Maybe he feels </span>
  <em>
    <span>something...</span>
  </em>
  <span> Smiling, Steve turns the dial as far as it will go. “You let me know when it starts to wear off, and I’ll get you some more.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor nods. Yes, he can do that. He’s not sure he could give a number, but this is definitely better. When Steve resumes his work, it’s much easier to stay relaxed. That steady hand on his shoulder is nice and warm, reminding him that he’s safe. This is nice. He smiles drowsily to himself, feeling no inclination to fight the drug whatsoever. “Like you...” he mumbles.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Huh?” Steve keeps working. Thor wishes he could see his friend’s face...</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Like you a lot,” Thor stares at the line weaving across the bed and into his hand. It </span>
  <span>loops</span>
  <span> back on itself, then runs through a clamp before reaching his hand. “S’why... s’why I couldn’t let you go.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I... I like you a lot too,” Steve replies quietly, strangely taken aback. “That’s why I was angry you did that. Well, more scared than angry. I didn’t know if you were okay, and then the roof went down...”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Can’t die from that...” Thor notes almost to himself. Falling into a pit of flames with a building collapsing on top of him wouldn’t have killed him. It’d have killed the little girl, but he’d have been alright. “Floated in space for at least a week. Wouldn’t have died...” Maybe he would have needed some help waking up, but he would have lived. Even his burned skin would have regenerated, though he doubts it would be without some lingering marks.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re somethin’ else...” Steve sighs, and maybe it’s the drugs but Thor is certain he hears awe in the soldier’s voice.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He smiles, flushed and warm but still uncertain if that’s from the drugs as well. “You’re one to talk. You’re... you.” His words are evading him, yet he knows just how he feels. His lips feel loose, but not in an </span>
  <span>uncomfortable</span>
  <span> way. Not in a way that makes him want to fight for control. It’s alright if he says a little more than he intended, because Steve deserves to know. That’s if the soldier can piece together what he’s trying to say, at least.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Apparently. “Thanks,” Steve replies warmly. “You’re you too. Wouldn’t have it any other way.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah...?” That’s (maybe, he can’t remember) the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to him.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Steve’s hands clasp either side of his head and draw it back so they can see into each other’s eyes. Steve’s are bright and happy, and at the sight of them Thor can’t help but smile back. “I think I gave you too much morphine...” Steve laughs apologetically. “I didn’t think it would work </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> well...”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <span>S’okay</span>
  <span>,” Thor protests. A little dizzy, like Steve predicted, but he’s sitting, so it’s fine. He’s not in much pain, either, but then </span>
  <span>again,</span>
  <span> he’s not been paying attention.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve chuckles. “I’m all done. How fast do you heal?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor shrugs. “Fast.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Just </span>
  <span>tryna</span>
  <span> decide if I should bandage you up or not,” Steve leans closer, and Thor tips back, lifting his chin, but Steve just presses their foreheads together for a moment or two before righting Thor and going back to his tray. “I’ll cover everything up,” he says. “Doing okay?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>More than okay. Thor nods cheerfully and watches the drip chamber. Drip, drip.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve rips tape and tears open packages of gauze, taping square after square over the worst of the burns. His long fingers are so careful, but nothing hurts anymore, and not because of the drug. True to his word, Steve really hasn’t treated Thor any differently, not in the way he feared at least. Proxima Midnight and the other Children, even Thanos, feel like a million light years away here in Steve’s arms.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Here,” Steve’s at his side, reaching out to help him turn and sit on the edge of the bed. “Not that I </span>
  <span>don't</span>
  <span> want you to have a good time, but I think I’ll turn down that drip rate...”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The worst is over. Thor waves his hand loosely, so Steve brings the pole around and changes the flow with the dial. Obediently, Thor holds out his arm so Steve can peel off the temporary dressings and assess the wounds beneath. They do look a little better.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve shakes his head. “You really are amazing,” he says as he pulls his tray a bit closer and cleans soot from the wound. “I mean it. Not just because you can take bullets and keep running. I want you to know that.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor </span>
  <em>
    <span>does</span>
  </em>
  <span> know that, because those aren’t the </span>
  <span>reasons</span>
  <span> he finds Steve amazing either. He nods, the smile lingering on his lips. “Thanks.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“What you did was brave. Stupid, but brave,” Steve glances up while he presses new gauze over the hole and tapes it down. He tears the tape and sets down the roll.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor shrugs loosely. He knows what he wants to say – </span>
  <em>
    <span>Takes one to know one</span>
  </em>
  <span> – but he doesn’t have the finesse for it. “Jus’ like you,” he slurs instead.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m never giving you morphine again,” Steve laughs, pink in the cheeks. “Drugs make you sassy.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Some of them do. This one does. Thor doesn’t bother correcting the soldier, chuckling alongside him instead and watching his friend work. The morphine is starting to wear off, and the haze fading back with it, but he’s still giddy enough to be entranced by Steve’s long fingers that don’t seem to fit the rest of his body. He shakes some sense into his head.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Want to go home?” Steve asks as he brushes the pile of packaging into the trash. “We can stay if you want, and you can nap right here if you’re tired... I’ll stay with you. But we can go hang out with the others. I’m sure you’re hungry. I know I am.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Right, there’s no-one at home to cook. Thor rubs his eyes, his body working through the drugs fast enough that this reduced flow isn’t enough to keep him high. It’s strange, feeling this sudden gush of words and limited </span>
  <span>inhibitions</span>
  <span> to suddenly coming back to himself and still having those words in his mouth. He wants to keep talking, and though it’s harder, he forces himself to brave through it. “We could stay...” he suggests. “If you want.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“If </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> want,” Steve echoes, holding up a clean stack of clothes. “I’m not the one who got blown up.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor frowns in indignation. “I did not get blown up.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, okay,” Steve laughs, clamping the IV line and peeling off the tape. He slides out the needle and tapes a band-aid over the hole before disposing of the </span>
  <span>equipment and g</span>
  <span>oing to clean his hands in the sink. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Smiling to himself, Thor pulls the shirt over his head. Steve’s brought him a snug black t-shirt with the silver SHIELD logo on the shoulder, a pair of SHIELD sweats, and the hoodie he left the house wearing. These will be enough layers today.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I’d have helped you,” Steve’s back, somewhat surprised to find Thor half naked. “Here,” he takes the hoodie and holds it up.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor cuts himself off from insisting that he’s alright, instead accepting the help. It does help his back and arms from being tugged on. “Thank you,” he pulls it down and smooths it out. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <span>Feelin</span>
  <span>’ okay?” Steve stands in front of him, smiling down with his usual golden warmth.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I feel good,” Thor smiles back. “Thank you.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>I feel better than I have I years.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I really am proud of you,” Steve’s hands lift hesitantly, but in want, waiting for permission. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Always</span>
  </em>
  <span> waiting for that sign that it’s alright. That’s enough for Thor, that Steve thinks of what he wants to an almost excessive degree. He pulls Steve’s arms forward by the elbows and rests the soldier’s hands on his shoulders. Steve gives them a squeeze. “You saved that girl’s life. Maybe even saved mine. Saved me some pain, at least. The rest of the team are proud of you, too.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor would rather be out there with them than inside the apartment with Midnight, but he glows at the praise and longs for more morphine, because maybe it would have known what to say. It would have known to say </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span>, even if not the most eloquent.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You could have stayed in the jet,” Steve goes on. “But you came to fight with us, and you put your life on the line for us.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It’s not just you who cares about me – it goes both ways. I </span>
  </em>
  <span>owe </span>
  <em>
    <span>you my life. Not just my heartbeat, but my </span>
  </em>
  <span>life. That’s what he’d say if he had any hope of arranging his feelings into words. Steve doesn’t mind the silence, but Thor wishes he could express how he feels a little bit better. He lifts his hands too and wraps them around Steve’s wrists, pulling his friend’s hands away from his shoulders and wrapping them around his waist. If he can’t say it, he’ll just have to show it: he pulls Steve onto his lap, hugging him closer.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Can I kiss you?” Steve blurts, red rising rapidly from under the collar of his shirt and into his face. “S-sorry, I... I don’t know- I shouldn’t have-”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve’s got beautiful lips, fat and damp from nervous licking. Steve can go from calm and sure to a nervous wreck in moments. It’s adorable, this big man back-tracking like he’s suggested something deplorable. Thor knows why Steve is nervous, but Midnight never kissed him, not even on other places of his body. She likes to taunt him, and it’s hard to speak if you’re kissing someone. Steve’s asking permission, anyway, like he always does, and Thor’s taking far too long to cut off that nonsense rambling. He stops Steve mid-apology and leans back as he pulls Steve closer. Clearly, Steve doesn’t know what he’s doing, but Thor’s out of practice too. Luckily, Steve’s got kissable lips, and he’s completely pliant. Shock? Maybe. Thor encourages. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You asked.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Recovering, Steve opens his mouth and allows the invitation, pushing back and turning his head into it. </span>
  <em>
    <span>That’s it.</span>
  </em>
  <span> For himself, too. Thor rests his hand around Steve’s waist and flops on his back, pulling the soldier with him.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Your back-” Steve protests, but Thor shuts him up. His back is fine. It’s not like they’re rolling around or anything. Besides, the intoxication from Steve’s mouth is more than enough to handle whatever irritation his wounds are suffering. </span>
  <span>So,</span>
  <span> Thor pushes Steve’s tongue right back into his mouth and kisses him resolutely. He winds his hand up into Steve’s hair, then draws it down to feel the muscle working under the soldier’s thin shirt. Steve does the same, his long fingers threading much more tentatively through Thor’s shortened locks, but gaining confidence when he’s shown that this is okay. </span>
  <em>
    <span>More</span>
  </em>
  <span> than okay. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Panting, they pull apart, Thor holding on to Steve’s bottom lip with his teeth for just one extra second, enjoying the feeling of it pulling free. Rumpled and flustered, Steve stares down at him. He looks nothing like the collected, in-charge Captain that he did when they stepped off the jet. He looks nothing like the soft, mindful caretaker he’s been for the past hour-and-a-half. He looks young, like the photo, completely swept off his feet. Happy.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Something flips. Steve heaves, his mussed bangs flopping into his face. Thor sits up off the bed and Steve immediately jumps to help him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think... I didn’t... I... I drugged you...”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You didn’t drug me.” Thor wraps his arm back around Steve’s waist. “You did not.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I drugged you, and then I...”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You did not take advantage of me,” Thor replies. He still feels a little dizzy (though mostly from the kiss, now), but in his own head. He can make </span>
  <span>decisions,</span>
  <span> he can say no if he wants. “You asked, Steve. I said yes.” He wants Steve to be happy again.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“God...” Steve flops forward with relief, draping his arms around Thor. “Wow...”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>That sounds about right. Thor thinks he could go for more. He pushes Steve up by the shoulders and looks at him. “Another?” he suggests, and Steve nods, falling into it.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>--</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>They nearly fall asleep in the tower, late at night when they’ve eaten so much </span>
  <span>food</span>
  <span> they’re both stuffed. Everyone has been so kind, celebrating their success with each other’s company. They're loud and generous, and Thor feels more at home here than anywhere else, second only to Steve’s apartment. He sits with Steve on the sofa. The morphine has long worn off, but he feels giddy and happy. It doesn’t show as vibrantly as it does on Steve, but it’s there in the form of a little smile that doesn’t go away. He eats, he joins in with the games, and when the others ask him if he’s alright he manages to tell them that he is with a couple of grateful words.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor knows he made mistakes. He should have cleared out that top level before descending, and he’d have found the girl. He could have brought her to safety before the building came down. He hopes she’s alright, the SHIELD took care of her and brought her back to her family. But all anyone has for him are words of praise. There is no punishment, no reprimand. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The groups </span>
  <span>starts</span>
  <span> to drop off one by one, collapsing over the furniture on full bellies to the sound of the next weary game of Mario Kart. Tony is facing off one last time against Steve. Natasha is sat on the floor, slumped over the armchair beside Bruce, each of them with an empty drink in their hand. Clint is sprawled on the carpet where he lay down a minute ago to ‘see the game better’.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>When the last race finishes, Steve guides a mildly-protesting Tony over to an empty armchair and nudges him into it.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Not tired, Steve... Got work to do,” the inventor mumbles.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, Tony,” Steve agrees. “No time to waste.” He’s already moving away, and Tony is already asleep.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor gets up and pads over to the television to switch off everything and clean up some of the party scattered nearby, while Steve throws a blanket over Clint and carries Natasha to the couch. He lays her out and tucks her in as well, then comes to help clean up the last of the food.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Had fun?” Steve holds out his hands, and Thor adds his plates to the stack.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor nods. “Yes.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“We can do it every time, if you want,” Steve stands, and Thor does too, bringing with him an armful of empty beer bottles. He likes the sound of that. He’ll even be tempted to stay for the after-party. Unwinding with friends isn’t so bad. Better than what the Children ever gave him.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Once everything is cleaned up, Steve calls them a taxi. It’s almost 3am, and both of them are worn out enough that as soon as they kick off their shoes, they both stagger to bed and collapse into it. Steve rolls onto his back so Thor can keep of his while they cuddle. Neither of them </span>
  <span>have</span>
  <span> any trouble falling asleep.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>--</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor wakes up projected onto the rocky outcropping. Midnight is there to greet him. Thor stands tall and defiant. Steve has rescued him from nights alone in the apartment. She won’t be able to come for him then anymore. That warning lick of her lips does threaten his stability though, wrenching his conditioned heart with fear.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Your pretty friend stole you away,” she comes in close, like she always does, and he sets his jaw and stares sternly ahead. Midnight walks a predatory circle, breathing on his neck. “Still you make no progress... Are you stalling, little one? Or have you forgotten your mission?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I have not forgotten it,” Thor replies evenly.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Then you have abandoned it,” Midnight spits it like he’s done something despicable. “Is that what you’ve dared to do, little one? After all Thanos has done for you, you would cast aside his glorious mantle? You would throw that gift away? Is this what you have done?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>When she puts it like that, he can’t make his mouth agree, even though he doesn’t feel... right. It’s no longer what he wants. “</span>
  <span>Thanos</span>
  <span> rescued me,” he replies instead. “And I will never forget that he saved my life. But he gave me the choice, long ago, that if I wanted to leave, I could. I have served him for a hundred years. I can no longer serve him as I could.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Midnight smirks and leans into her hips, licking her lips more deliberately. “Is that what has happened, little one? Perhaps your human friend has been left to sway you for too long. You fought in battle with him and his companions today, and yet you lost out on the chance to kill them all. The tesseract could have been yours.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Frankly, that options never crossed his mind. These people are his friends, all of them. He stands patiently, trying to hide his dread as he waits for what Midnight will say.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“The others can be spared,” she decides. “But the blonde one... he must go. He has gotten in your way too many times now. He has been nothing but a distraction. Kill him, and retrieve the tesseract. A worse fate awaits him if you do not.” She slides closer again, and rests her hand against his throat, licking her lips one last time. “I can punish him for the trouble he’s caused.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He knows she can. The dream starts to fade.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Kill him,” she reminds as they’re separated and he returns to his bed. “Kill him.”</span>
  
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. Chapter 19</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Uh oh continues.</p>
<p>Y'alls comments are life-giving, thank you &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Thor wakes up on Steve’s chest, shivering. The sun has just started to rise, lighting up the room. As carefully as he can, Thor rolls off the soldier and slides out from under the blanket, sitting on the edge of the bed and rubbing his face. He has no idea how much time he has before Midnight makes her moves on Steve, but surely he has time to sit here for a minute or two and think.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Kill him, or else.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Midnight’s threat echoes inside his skull as if it were an empty cavern. No, he’s not going to kill Steve, or the others, or anyone. He won’t let Midnight get her </span>
  <span>hands on</span>
  <span> Steve either. If he has to submit himself to her to save Steve, then so be it. He just has to bring her the tesseract, and hope that’s enough to protect Steve. Thor can distract her if need-be. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He shivers again at the thought and wraps his arms around his body, clutching his sweater. It’s loose and warm, and it’s one of Steve’s. Steve gave this to him that night in the bathroom. Steve kissed him, even though Thor’s dirty. Steve’s still asleep, his arms limply spread on either side, his mouth open. Thor looks back and watches the other man breathe, a solid chest and handfuls of muscle rising and falling under a shirt and blanket. Yesterday feels long gone. Even though she’s not here, Midnight has somehow managed to taint this, too. Even with Steve’s care and protection, she’s still finding ways to ruin it. Thor turns back and looks down at his feet, grabbing at the carpet with his toes. All he wants is for Steve to kiss him again, but with his future uncertain after he hands back the tesseract, he’s not sure he can justify letting this go too far. Maybe Steve will have changed his mind after a good night’s sleep anyway. He will, if he knows what’s good for him.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Which he doesn’t. Steve’s too stupid to look after himself. Thor snorts and can’t help the smallest of smiles, even while wishing he could forget yesterday’s kisses and pleasant evening and </span>
  <em>
    <span>everything</span>
  </em>
  <span> enjoyable before it, because Midnight might take him away again once she has the tesseract. Maybe she’ll kill him. Or maybe the army will come and kill him instead, or kill Steve. But what choice does he have? If he doesn’t fetch the tesseract, Midnight will torture Steve. She’ll </span>
  <em>
    <span>rape</span>
  </em>
  <span> him. Thor shoves down a forceful sob at the thought of it, at that vile word itself.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <span>Mmmghm</span>
  <span>,” Steve groans behind him, rustling the sheets. When Thor turns, the soldier is stretching and opening his eyes, turning on his side and blinking blearily over. He’s wearing a dopey smile and stretching out his hand. “S’matter?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor can’t turn down that invitation, or those eyes. That loving smile. “Nothing,” he smiles back and turns back onto the bed, taking Steve’s hand and rolling into the embrace.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How’s your back?” Steve look up at him, lacing their fingers. His hair is sticking up at odd angles.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor flexes his muscles, but the only thing pulling is the tape clung to his skin; his wounds are healing well, producing barely a sting from the deepest patches. The wounds in his arms are doing well too. “Good,” he replies. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How’d you sleep?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good,” Thor nods.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Everything okay?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor gives another smile and a nod, lowering himself onto his elbows and resting his chest onto Steve’s. Maybe Thor doesn’t know what’s good for himself either, because he’s pressing a kiss into Steve’s lips and stroking back the soldier’s bangs. He runs his hand down the smooth skin of Steve’s cheek, to his clean-shaven jaw. They shouldn’t be here doing this, because it’ll only make everything hurt more when Midnight inevitably rips them apart, but he needs just a little more of what Steve’s offering. It’s like a puff of oxygen and a drop of water in the vacuum of space – </span>
  <em>
    <span>more</span>
  </em>
  <span> than that, a flood of life-giving substances after a century deprived. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>needs</span>
  </em>
  <span> it so badly he just can’t turn away from it. Not right now at least, not this morning. Eventually, he’ll be forced to. Is an indulgence now worth the heartbreak due later? And what about Steve?</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Steve will be better off when I’m gone. When Proxima Midnight and all her threats are far away from him.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve looks content to his bones, loose in the bed and willing for what he’s given. He deserves more than a few scraps. He deserves love in quantity and quality Thor hasn’t given. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How about some breakfast, after I take a look at your back?” Steve offers, constant in his role of the giver. “If you want... If that’s okay.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course,” Thor smiles. “Thank you.” He can’t get a good look at his own wounds anyway, but he’s alright with Steve’s help. He sits up off the soldier and turns his back, crossing his legs and pulling off his sweater and shirt. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve moves in silence, sitting behind him and peeling off the dressings one at a time. “Wow...” he says after the first square of gauze comes off. “This is almost healed.” The soldier’s thumb passes over the sealed skin. It’s tender, but it’s as if the wound has already scabbed, and the scab has fallen off. Even though these aren’t serious injuries, they’re healing a lot faster than anything has aboard the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sanctuary II.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>All down his back, Steve pulls off the rest of the dressings, vigilant with the contact he applies. Thor holds his sweater against his chest, staring at the places he knows where scars are hidden beneath. So many scars... Some came before </span>
  <span>Thanos</span>
  <span>; Asgardians may heal from horrific injuries, but they can still scar. Thor has a few from his glory days as a prince, but most of them are from wounds dealt under </span>
  <span>Thanos</span>
  <span>. Those have scarred more, despite being less grievous than some that have vanished completely. Thor touches his eye, </span>
  <span>feeling</span>
  <span> the gap in his eyebrow.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve moves to his arms and exposes the bullet wounds. Those are healing just as well, the holes shrunken and sealed over with infant skin. Underneath, muscle is regenerating. Thor flexes, watching his body ripple the way he’s always known it to.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How’s it healin’ up?” Steve sits beside him on the bed, inspecting him. The soldier may be too stupid to take care of himself, but he’s smart enough to spot when something’s up.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor gives a little smile, as if that will help. “Quite well. Better than I have in some time.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Glad to hear,” Steve’s plush lips stretch into a smile, but Thor stops himself from leaning forward and tasting them again. If he doesn’t stop himself soon, he never will, and that will be to both their detriment. Thor would kiss those lips every chance afforded to him, if he knew Steve wouldn’t suffer for it when Midnight destroys this. This is his sign, that he’s not meant to have what he’s being offered.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor puts his clothes back on, before gazing into Steve’s eyes becomes dangerous. He stands, and the soldier follows. There’s breakfast to be made, which they go about making like normal. There’s a ‘normal’ now, gods above... They’re moving so well together without saying a word; the way Steve gets out the equipment, and Thor gets the food. The pan goes on the stove, the eggs on the counter nearby. They dance around each other, so used to each other’s rhythm. They’ve rehearsed this ballet a thousand times. Steve butters the pan, and Thor sets the knife aside, handing it over when the toast pops. Steve then butters the toast, while Thor minds the eggs. Everything finishes at the right time, and the eggs slide onto plates as soon as the toast does. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>They eat, and the silence feels cold. It’s more deliberate, because he knows Steve is watching him, trying to figure out what’s different, what’s wrong.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The best Thor can do is try to be normal, without indulging himself in what he wants, and without hurting Steve’s feelings. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Steve</span>
  </em>
  <span> wants to be close, out of needs born from old loneliness. It feels cruel to tuck his hands in his pockets when he sees the soldier’s hand starting to reach over. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I should never have let you kiss me...</span>
  </em>
  <span> He’s made everything more difficult for both of them, and Steve doesn’t even know...</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>But, understanding as ever, Steve gives him space, worried but patient. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I don’t deserve you...</span>
  </em>
  <span> Thor swallows his shame and joins Steve in their planning of tonight’s dinner.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>--</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s official: Thor will be joining the Avengers in battle for the coming missions. Steve announces that Fury agreed (though Thor suspects the director had little choice), and Thor accepts the offer. He’s certainly not staying here alone for Midnight to find him, even though his best chance of getting the tesseract is to keep as close as possible to the others. And what better time to be in the tower than after a fight, when the team is tired and trusting? It burns that they trust him so much, and he’s about to do this...</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>While he waits for the next call, he has to try to keep his distance from Steve. Thor crawls into bed on one side, facing his back to the other. No word can describe how badly he wants to roll over and be gathered up in Steve’s arms, but he fights his urges and keeps those few inches between them.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>When they sit at the breakfast table that morning, Steve stares directly at him, no less concerned than before, though he’s clearly a little bit sad as well. “I shouldn’t have kissed you,” he says quietly. “I’m sorry. It was... impulsive. I didn’t think it through. You’d just gone through something horrible, and I... I wasn’t thinking straight.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s not that. Not that at all. Thor shakes his head.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s wrong?” Steve asks urgently. “Did I do something?” Not demanding, or offended, just concerned. Always focused on what Thor needs instead of himself. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor shakes his head.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I didn’t persist before when I knew something was going on,” Steve’s tone becomes pleading this time. “Thor... if something is going on, I don’t want you to hide it. Is she... did she come back-?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No!” Thor jolts. “No, she hasn’t.” Gods, no.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then what?” Steve presses. “Thor, please... I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have kissed you, and now you won’t talk to me-”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s not that!” Thor snaps. The room falls silent, and Steve shuts his mouth. “Sorry...” Thor mumbles and looks back down at his plate.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He can see Steve shake his head in his </span>
  <span>peripheral</span>
  <span>. “Sorry,” the soldier echoes. “Shouldn’t’a pestered you...”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor shakes his head right back. “</span>
  <span>S’alright</span>
  <span>. I’m alright, I... I’m just...” There are no words he can use to explain what’s going on, but he needs Steve to know that It's not his fault. Steve shouldn’t be punished for caring, for trying to help. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>has</span>
  </em>
  <span> helped, immensely. “I just need some time to think.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay,” Steve smiles understandingly. “It’s okay, you know, if you change your mind... You’re allowed to do that.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maybe he should outright say he doesn’t want Steve to kiss him anymore. The sooner he ends things, the less it’ll hurt the soldier. But when he looks up, he doesn’t have the courage to say it. He can’t break Steve’s heart to his face. Instead, he nods and smiles a little, gathering their empty dishes and bringing them to the sink.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve obliges, and they’re back to how things used to be in the early days. Steve gives Thor the space he wants and asks questions that can be answered with nods or shakes. They get through the day doing all the things that normally occupy their routine, then they crawl into bed on opposite sides, and go to sleep. For fear of dreams waking him and affecting his ability to keep his mouth shut, Thor doesn’t allow himself much more than a few minutes of dozing at a time.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Miraculously, it isn’t long before Fury calls them out again, which is a relief to Thor; hanging around in the house battling the urge to flop into Steve’s arms while guilt eats away at him is torturous.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The fight is also set to be a tough one, which means the team will be tired when they all get home. It means Thor can end this sooner rather than later, and Steve can move on with his life. He can find someone who won’t cause him these problems and treat him like this. Thor suits up with that thought in mind, determined to help his friends one last time.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s chaos out there. Steve calls for Bruce right away, and the Hulk drops into the battlefield with a roar. It amazes Thor how the beast listens to Steve, but not much to anyone else. It would seem that cell in the </span>
  <span>helicarrier</span>
  <span> was built for the Hulk. Could Thor match the beast in strength? The thought crosses his mind, but it has no room to stay in a place that demands his full focus. He needs to be ready for orders of his own, and keep his eye on his team.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>They’re stepping in to help another Earth organization defeat a group of terrorists who have armed themselves with old Stark tech that’s been refurbished and redesigned. Of course, as the genius that he is, Tony doesn’t have any trouble figuring out how his stolen tech can be disabled.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shots that resemble Iron Man’s </span>
  <span>repulsors</span>
  <span> fire across the streets. Fortunately, all civilians have been cleared of the area, so the only collateral suffered is to the buildings. Steve quickly ordered the FBI and SWAT to fall back and watch the perimeter while the better-armored and more highly-trained </span>
  <span>fighters</span>
  <span> step into danger. Hawkeye observes from above, calling out what he finds to the rest of the team and watching all their backs. Tony flies around keeping the fight </span>
  <span>corralled</span>
  <span> while defending against the biggest weapons and disabling everything he can from a distance. Natasha and Steve work side-by-side, using Steve’s shield to protect from shots between their own attacks. The Hulk does what he does best, smashing anything that gets in his way whilst completely unbothered by any fire that hits his thick green hide.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>‘Unbothered’ may be the wrong word, actually... While the shots don’t appear to be causing damage, they do cause annoyance. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor, meanwhile, makes use of his speed and strength combined with his skill. Steve orders him to help, but to make use of his stealth and assist from behind. While the enemies focus on Captain America and Black Widow, Thor, the unknown element, will strike from the shadows. By the time they know he’s there, it’s too late. The men concentrate their fire on that shiny shield, and Thor slides up from behind. In an active warzone, there’s no chance they’ll hear him. Thor takes down the first, and by the time they realize he’s there, he’s already moving on to the next. Steve and Natasha move in, and together they crush the enemy between them.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Natasha holsters her gun and picks up one that the enemy dropped. It’s bigger, and the shots go farther.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Let’s go,” Steve orders. “There’s another wave coming a block down. These guys must have armed as many people as they could get their hands on... They just don’t stop.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>At least nobody’s trying to bury them alive this time, and there isn’t any fire. Thor nods and breaks away from the others to follow along in hiding. There are lots of side streets and awnings to duck through, which makes the process easier.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>This next wave is quite large, and they immediately open fire the second they see Steve’s shiny shield. Thor looks around. They’re near the edge of the battlefield now, the section of city that’s been blocked off. Clint’s too far away to help, and Tony and Hulk are back in that direction too, handling their own cluster of enemies. Thor counts the enemies and scans his surroundings. He can see the perimeter through the buildings, where people have been </span>
  <span>evacuated</span>
  <span> and are held back by the police. Thor draw his knife and looks back at the fight, at Steve crouched behind his shield protecting Natasha while she shoots over his shoulder when she can. The moment is perfect. Thor ducks out of hiding and plows into the group of enemies. They yell and turn their guns on him, giving Steve and Natasha the chance they need to retaliate.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Together, the three of them destroy the enemy.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>In a few hours, the streets are safe again. Significant damage has been done to the structures, but no civilians were harmed. Bruised, singed, and weary, the Avengers regroup and head toward the jet. People with cameras and microphones appear out of every crevice, but Steve politely dismisses them. Thor winces as cameras flash in his face, and slides behind Steve’s shoulders. It’s Tony who manages to redirect the focus onto himself, pulling attention away from Thor and the others to give the people what they want: a few words, some pictures, and maybe a charming smile. Thor is able to slip onto the jet before anyone can manage to ask him a question.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tony essentially tells everyone to fuck off, and that the team is tired, before following them into the jet too. The ramp shuts, and they all breathe a weary sigh. Bruce slumps in the corner with Natasha, Tony limps out of his suit which stands sentry, Clint sprawls out on a bench, and Steve makes sure they’re all okay.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Everyone is. The worst can be fixed with a band-aid or some ice, but nobody is too badly hurt. They’re all just tired. All but Thor. It’s perfect.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The ride back to the tower is short. Everyone lopes off, helping each other where necessary. Bruce immediately collapses in his arm chair, mumbling a thank-you to Natasha who gets him some water and a cold beer.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Welcome home,” JARVIS pipes up the moment they’re all inside. “Shall I have the usual order delivered?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, that’d be great,” Tony waves his hand. “Thanks J.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good work everybody,” Steve ruffles his sweaty hair, his helmet already under his arm. He took it off the moment the fight ended. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Agreed,” Clint sinks into the couch, popping the top off a beer and taking a long swig before rolling his shoulders. He dumps his weapons on the floor, and doesn’t bother with his uniform. “No fire was a nice change.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Are things normally on fire, or blowing up? Whatever, it doesn’t matter. This was Thor’s last fight with them. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come on, I brought some spare clothes for you,” Steve’s smiling and gesturing to the elevator. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor follows, unzipping his vest. He’ll wait to leave when everyone is asleep, and by the looks of it even Steve is worn out.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry,” Steve looks over once the elevator doors slide shut. “</span>
  <span>Shoulda</span>
  <span> warned you about the press... Tony’s a celebrity, and they usually hound him. They couldn’t pass up a chance to question the rest of us while we were there either.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Of course</span>
  <span> these other humans would want to know about the Avengers, a group of colorfully-dressed crime-fighters. Thor remembers being popular on Asgard, as the crown prince. Even in that small town near the farm he quickly became well-known, but that was more because he was new, and likely also because he was odd. Odd among humans, at least. Thor shrugs. It’s not Steve’s fault.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We came out of that one pretty good,” Steve steps out of the elevator and unzips his uniform, walking through the infirmary and into a private room. The soldier picks up the bag of their stuff and sets it on the bed, unzipping it and handing over some folded clothes with a smile. “We were glad to have you. You really watched our backs out there.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor nods and smiles back, taking his change of clothes. “Thanks.” He hopes that if Midnight does take him back, that she either kills him or locks him up, because he can’t fight for </span>
  <span>Thanos</span>
  <span> again. He can’t fight with the Children.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>They turn their backs on each other and get changed. This is quite possibly the last time Thor spends time with the only person he’s willing to get changed in the same room with. Even if Midnight or the other Children don’t kill him, this is certainly the end of living. Thor folds up his uniform, even though he’ll never wear it again, and tucks it back in the bag. Steve’s turning too, his hair handsomely disheveled and his shirt hugging the smooth dips and swells of muscle. Most of all, he’s smiling his handsome smile, and Thor wants to smile back and kiss those lips, but he can’t. He has to walk to the door, dread weighing his heart so much it weighs his feet. Steve follows, understanding but visibly saddened. They sit together on the sofa, and Steve looks at his feet, worrying his bottom lip. Forcefully, Thor looks away, even though his heart is breaking.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Food is soon spread across the table in its usual quantities, and Thor can’t deny that he’s hungry. The battle took up all their evening, and </span>
  <span>it’s</span>
  <span> well past dinner. While games are fired up and controllers distributed, Thor eats and stays quiet. The others don’t try to rope him into anything, but they include him in any praises given for their success today. They talk about how happy they are to have his help, and he has to look away as he flushes pink with pride. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He waits until the others are stuffed and worn out with playing before he joins in with a game or two. He relieves Clint, who’s dropping off, and plays a round with Natasha who’s soon to follow. Tony takes him up, right after Thor helps distribute blankets. He tucks one over Steve, too, and shoves more food and drink in the soldier’s direction. When his game with Tony is over, Thor turns back to see that the soldier has dropped off to sleep too.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good game,” Tony yawns, dropping his controller and shutting off the TV. He slumps on the floor and rolls himself up in a blanket, his face inches away from Clint’s empty plate. Thor picks it up, and Tony murmurs something before passing out.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Everyone is out cold. Thor stands in the middle of the room, listening intently to their breathing. Nobody shows any signs of waking, so he quietly stacks up a few plates, then makes his way to the elevator. Thor takes one last look back at his friends, at his team. At Steve.</span>
  <em>
    <span> Goodbye. Thank you.</span>
  </em>
  <span> If he were stronger, he’d have hovered over the soldier, maybe even risked kissing his forehead, but Thor doesn’t trust himself to do what needs to be done if he takes that risk. Thor steps into the elevator and presses the right button, taking some deep breaths to force down his sobs. He gives himself until the doors open again to pull himself together.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve no longer exists. Thor does his best to purge the soldier from his brain as he walks along the dark corridors toward Tony’s lab.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Can I help you find anything?” JARVIS inquires.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No. Thank you,” Thor shakes his head. “I’m just going for a walk. To help me sleep.” He forgot about Tony’s AI that watches everything. As soon as the computer knows something is wrong, Thor will have minimal time to escape.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I see,” JARVIS calmly notes. “May I suggest the gym? There is a well-equipped training facility a few floors down. Or perhaps you would like me to wake Captain Rogers-?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No!” Thor quickly interjects. “No. Let him sleep. I’m alright. Thank you.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“As you wish.” The AI goes silent.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor sets his jaw and storms on. He doesn’t know exactly which room is the lab, but with plenty of windows looking in, Thor doesn’t have any trouble spotting the tesseract.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The glowing blue cube is locked into a frame connected to an array of computers taking measurements. There are lots of other strange devices around that look home-made but expensive at the same time. One of Tony’s jackets is draped over a chair, and a sweater he’s seen Bruce wear by a coffee pot on a table. Thor tries the door, but of course it’s locked.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I must ask you to leave,” JARVIS is back. “Mr. Stark does not like others touching his equipment. Please return to the elevator, and I will take you to the gym.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor doesn’t answer, staring through the glass. If he’s fast, which he is, he can break the glass, take the cube, and be down the steps and out of the building before anyone can catch him. He clenches his fist.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thor.” He turns, and Steve is there, wariness in his posture but concern in his face. “Thor, what are you doing?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nothing. Go back to sleep,” Thor’s heart does a flip, but he holds his composure and stares the soldier down.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve takes a step closer. “Thor, whatever’s going on, we can help. My promise hasn’t changed. I, and everyone else, will protect you.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The sentiment is appreciated,” Thor replies evenly. “But for your own safety, Steve, go back to bed.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you threatening me?” Steve’s eyebrows jump, and Thor curses himself for not knowing better than to challenge the super-soldier.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” Thor argues. “I am warning you. What’s coming is more than you can anticipate. Turn away, and I can keep Midnight’s wrath from you. I do not wish to see her harm you.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What, and you think I can watch her do the same to you?” Steve’s voice flares with anger. “That’s what you’re doing, going back to her? After everything she did to you? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Why?</span>
  </em>
  <span> What did she promise you?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This is not your concern,” Thor growls back. “Go. To. Bed.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can help you,” Steve pleads again. “Thor, let me help you. I can’t let you go through that ever again. I promised.” He steps closer again, and again.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor’s stare darkens in warning. “You cannot save everyone,” he growls. “This is out of your hands, and not your decision.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Let me protect you!</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Let me try!” Steve cries. “You’re not alone!” Another step. Thor flexes his fists in warning, but it doesn’t stop Steve from carrying on forward.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She’s already taken me,” Thor barks. “I won’t let her take you, too! It’s too late for me!”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s not ‘too late’! Thor, </span>
  <em>
    <span>nothing is too late!</span>
  </em>
  <span> Please... I need you.” There are tears gathering in Steve’s eyes. “Please, Thor!”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>You have no idea how much I need you, too. But that’s why I have to say goodbye. Why do you have to make this so difficult?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Steve’s eyes shimmer bluer when they’re full of tears. Thor grits his teeth against the pang in his heart. “She’s not getting her hands on you, and you aren’t stopping me.” Two truths. He’ll defend those any way he can.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” Steve demands. “No! I didn’t press when I knew something was wrong before, and I won’t let her take you again because I didn’t do anything!” He steps closer still, and Thor backs up, but the soldier grabs his wrist.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Let go,” Thor growls low, his battle instincts flaring up. “Steve, let go.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I won’t let you go back to her,” Steve says back, setting his heels into the floor and pulling.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor snaps. His body moves on its own in response to the tug as if it’s a threat, which it is – a threat to his ability to protect Steve from harm. Midnight can’t get her hands on the soldier and destroy his purity. Without thinking, Thor twists his wrist free, but Steve is already stepping into his circle, prepared to do battle, and snatches at his other wrist.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor moves too quickly to think about what he’s doing. He turns his arm and grabs Steve’s wrist before the soldier can reach him, twisting it away from the other man’s body. Decades of having these moves beaten into him takes over, and fueled by anger and desperation, he lifts his knee so fast into Steve’s arm that the bone snaps in half. Steve yelps with eyes wide, but Thor is already bringing his heel down and stomping it into the soldier’s leg below the knee with a crack and a pop. Steve cries out again, swaying as Thor lets go of his wrist, tipping under his displaced leg.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thor-!” Steve chokes, but before he can stop himself, Thor is already swinging his fist around to complete his attack, cracking the soldier in the head and dropping him straight to the ground. Steve spins and falls on his side, choking and gasping for breath, but he can’t get any air into his lungs. Even his moans are trapped behind breathless hitches.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor takes a staggering step of his own, leaning away. It’s the first dribble of blood that breaks down his anger and destroys his resolve. Steve jerks, blood trailing, then streaming freely from his head. It puddles on the floor, running across Steve’s face and sticking to his cheek while the soldier writhes in pain and confusion, unable to breathe, or speak, or really move.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>What have I </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>done.</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> What have I </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>done.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Thor feels his throat start to constrict. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What have I done!</span>
  </em>
  <span> He can feel himself starting to crash, see the world start to blur around him. He feels ill and dizzy, like he could collapse. He needs to get far, far away. He can already hear people shouting – JARVIS must have alerted the others. JARVIS is talking to him right now, but Thor can’t hear a word of it. His brain won’t make words other than, </span>
  <em>
    <span>What</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> have I done.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The one person who’s looked after him constantly, since he was sent to this damn planet. That one person, who has shown him endless patience and kindness and love. He’s hurt that one person. Thor does the only thing he thinks to: he runs.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He runs into the stairwell, so frantic he’s surprised he doesn’t trip all way down. </span>
  <span>Somehow</span>
  <span> he manages them, his whole body starting to ache and his tears push free no matter how hard he fights them. They won’t be stopped. Nothing can stop his grief from bubbling up and taking over. He hears the main floor door lock as he comes to it, but he kicks it open and runs into the lobby. He runs out of the building and into the street. People stare, but he doesn’t care. An ambulance turns the corner and drives by, lights flashing, as he runs as fast as he can away from the tower.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor runs and runs because he can’t make his legs stop. It’s the only thing he can do, cry and run and run.</span>
  
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. Chapter 20</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks as always for the support y'all! We're in the wind-up period I promise.</p><p>I'm still looking for work, so I will be opening up commissions over on <a href="https://stormyandrescuer.tumblr.com/">tumblr</a> if that's something that interests you. I post lots of thundershield artwork there, too!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Thor quickly loses track of how far he’s run. It must be a long way though, to make him this tired and out of breath. That’s the reason he stops, because his body is done. Thor collapses on the riverbank near the bridge and pulls in his knees, dropping his forehead against them. He’s so out of breath and distraught that his sobs come out choked. The feeling in his gut and his heart is horrible, and his brain is too fried to reason with his feeling and calm down. </p><p>Through the tears, he stares at his hands through his legs. Those hands broke Steve. Steve, who so carefully and thoughtfully patched him up, and trusted Thor enough to do the same. Steve took care of him, helped him clean up and recover when Midnight broke him down to nothing, helped him become a person again. Steve rescued him, and what did he get for it in return? <em> I hurt him. I broke him. </em> At the very least, Thor is confident that the soldier’s enhancements will help him recover swiftly and completely, but the image of Steve gasping like a fish out of water in a puddle of his own blood is seared into his mind. The others will help him. They’ll take care of him, make sure he’s alright. </p><p>Ironic that the only thing he wants now is something he can’t have: a kiss from Steve. What did he do to deserve the first one? He can recall just as vividly the needy, loving look in Steve’s bright eyes when the soldier asked. Why did it have to be then? Why does Midnight have to take everything away from him? </p><p>He’s left the tesseract behind. Thor curses himself and squeezes his legs, sobbing into them. A drop of rain splatters on his shoulder, then another, then the sky is sobbing with him. The ground shakes with thunder, and dark clouds eat away the blue. He’s so useless. He had one task, and he failed it – get the tesseract, and in doing-so, protect Steve. <em> Well I did a mighty good job of that, didn’t I. </em> He barks a joyless laugh into his thighs and holds them tighter. Cold rain stabs at his bare neck and quickly soaks through his sweater and jeans. There’s no hair to cover his neck anymore, not since he chopped it all off in a panic. Steve fixed it. Steve walked in and calmly took care of the mess, leaving no detail unmissed. Even when the soldier found out the secret he was never supposed to, he still stayed to help. Thor wonders if that was a dream until his short hair reminds him that Steve really did come in there and scoop him out of Midnight’s clutches. </p><p>Thor has to jump right back into her jaws. He shivers at the thought. Going back to protect Steve is worth it, but that doesn’t make it easier, or enjoyable. The thought of being on that table again brings up fresh tears, and his shivers have nothing to do with the weather. </p><p>Shoes crunch on the soggy ground, and suddenly the rain is striking something above his head. He looks up, and sees Loki standing at his feet, an umbrella in-hand, wearing the black suit he wore aboard the helicarrier, and a sad concerned expression. </p><p>Thor growls and wipes his eyes, trying to push backward, but the wet grass conspires against him. </p><p>“At ease, brother,” Loki says quietly, lifting his hand. “I’m not here to take you away.” He keeps the umbrella over both of them. </p><p>Like a caged dog, Thor curls in on himself, shaking and angry. He could run, but there’s nowhere to go. At least if Loki were to take him, Midnight wouldn’t be able to get to him, and his body knows that, not so frantic to escape as it was the last time they spoke. “Why are you here then?” Thor spits, tucking his head farther into his sweater. “To gloat?” </p><p>“No,” Loki purses his lips, searching for words. “No, Thor, I... I came to say I’m sorry.” </p><p>“You already did. It means nothing,” Thor says. </p><p>“Not for that,” Loki replies, a hint of desperation in his voice, and the crack of unshed tears. In all their centuries together, Loki has rarely shown displays of emotions like this. It takes Thor aback more than when his brother showed them on the helicarrier. “Not for that, Thor. Sorry does nothing, I know. But please just let me say it. I need to.” </p><p>Thor snorts and scowls, shivering in his sweater, leaving his brother the opportunity to speak. </p><p>Tears roll down Loki’s face. “I saw,” he says. “Heimdall saw what she was doing to you, in the apartment. He saw her find you, and he told me. He showed me. It was too late that time, but time and time again she came, and I knew each time. And I did nothing. I should have come.” </p><p>At first, Thor doesn’t know how to feel. Anguish, perhaps, and resentment, because Loki knows the secret he never wanted anyone to know, and Loki didn’t come to help him. Not that he’d have been that happy to see his brother... but it hurts. It hurts deep. Thor stares through Loki and into the distance, shaking more violently as he contemplates his brother’s words, what they mean, and how he feels. </p><p>“I’m sorry,” Loki pleads. “I was afraid. I did not know who to tell... By the time I arrived she would surely be gone anyway, and I could not stay around to protect you, because you despise me...” </p><p>Thor growls his agreement, anger refreshed by these revelations. </p><p>“Truly, I am sorry,” Loki whispers weakly, humbled like Thor’s never seen him. That gives him some pride, to see his brother this low and broken. “I should have... I should have done something.” </p><p>“Why are you telling me this?” Thor demands, wiping his eyes so he can at least see. “What did you come here for? To humiliate me?” Loki looks truly distraught, and Thor can’t remember ever seeing his brother look this broken. Cool, collected Loki, too cunning to give away his emotions. Always in control, always a step ahead. </p><p>“I came to ask your forgiveness,” Loki says. “I do not expect it. But I will do for you anything you ask.” </p><p>“I don’t want your pity,” Thor snaps. </p><p>“I do not pity you,” Loki promises. “I love you, and I’ve missed you, and I’ve failed you. I failed to protect my brother, and nothing can undo what became of that. If you wish to blame me, do it. Do what you must. Resent me, if you want. But I will do anything I can. If you do not wish to return to Asgard, then I can find other means to protect you.” </p><p>“How generous, Allfather,” Thor snorts. “It is too late.” Midnight has already done her damage. But so has Thor. He’s done it to Steve. That can’t be undone either. Thor moans and pulls his knees back in so he can bury his face in them and sob. </p><p>“What happened?” Loki asks quietly. </p><p>Thor shakes his head. He has no inclination to talk to his brother about what’s going on. </p><p>Loki sighs. “May I sit with you?” </p><p>What does it matter? Loki will likely do what he wants anyway. “Grass’s’wet,” he mumbles. </p><p>“I will survive,” Loki calmly remarks. The umbrella stays over their heads, and Loki’s body thumps down beside him.  </p><p>It’s too late to stop now, so Thor doesn’t try to fight his tears anymore and lets them flood loose. The rain doesn’t let up, nor the wind, nor the lightning and thunder, but Loki holds that umbrella unwaveringly. </p><p>Eventually, Thor runs out of tears and murderous words to think, leaning weakly against his knees. At the very least, Midnight can’t find him and take him away while Loki is here. </p><p>“I’m sorry,” Loki whispers again. </p><p>Thor growls and shakes his head. “Stop saying that.” It doesn’t change a damn thing. </p><p><em> You don’t have to be sorry. </em> Steve very kindly told him that again and again, when Thor was limp on the bathroom floor, his own hair everywhere, and his borrowed blankets a mess. Steve wasn’t angry though, even if he could have been. He could have been angry that someone broke into his apartment. He could have been angry that Thor lied about it, and made that mess. But he wasn’t. Defeated, Thor lets his hands fall into the muddy grass.  </p><p>“I hurt Steve,” he croaks into his knees without really thinking about it. “He tried to help, and I hurt him.” </p><p>“He will recover,” Loki says. </p><p>Thor huffs. He sure hopes so. He hopes he didn’t kill the soldier... The right blow to the head can kill, even one as strong as Steve. </p><p>“I promise you that I want to help,” Loki continues bravely, though his voice in tainted with fear. “That was all I ever wanted.” </p><p>“Prove it,” Thor snaps, but it’s not as venomous as before. </p><p>“I will,” Loki promises. “But you must let me, Thor. Please. Tell me what to do, and I will do it-” </p><p>“It’s not that simple!” Thor looks over at his brother. “I wanted to trust you, and you betrayed our kingdom, then you left me to die in space! Now you’re here saying empty words after the damage has already been done!” </p><p>Loki shuts his mouth and leans back, though not far enough to pull away the umbrella. He blinks away new tears and searches for words. “Do you truly believe I abandoned you?” he whispers. </p><p>“I don’t know what to believe,” Thor mutters in frustration, resting his cheek on his knees. “I know... I know I was too far for Heimdall to see me. And I know you wanted the throne.” </p><p>“I craved it, perhaps too much,” Loki agrees honestly. “But that was a means to an end. What I wanted-” He sighs and starts again, shaking his head morosely. “Your death was too high a price to pay for it. I cannot prove that I searched for you, nor ask that you believe that I missed you every day for a hundred years. What happened to you is my error. Had I not done what I did, you would never have fallen. It’s my fault.” </p><p>Thor nods, but they quickly lose their vigor. It’s the circumstantial truth, but Loki never asked for him to be scooped out of space by a man who happens to have sick, evil proteges with a knack for rape and torture. Thor rubs his scarred eye and looks away, staring at the churning grey sky spitting vengeance on the city. “I cannot go back,” he whispers. </p><p>“Then do not,” Loki says, as if It's that easy, not asking if his brother means Thanos or Asgard. </p><p>“Midnight threatened to harm Steve,” Thor wipes his nose. <em> Beat her to it... </em> “I cannot let her touch him. If I do not obey her, she... she will...” </p><p>“Take him,” Loki finishes. “Torture him.” </p><p>Thor nods. “She demands the tesseract.” </p><p>“And what then, when she has it?” </p><p>“She’ll... use the portal and bring forth an army to enact Thanos’ will upon Earth,” Thor finishes. </p><p>“Even if you trade his well-being for the good of Earth, do you believe he will be spared when Thanos arrives? I may have only known Steve a few days, but he does not strike me the type to leave an alien invasion alone.” </p><p>Thor snorts. “No. He is not.” Even if Thor convinced Thanos and the others not to harm Steve, Steve would run into the fight on his own, and nothing less than physical restraint would stop him. </p><p>“Then do not bring her the tesseract,” Loki concludes evenly. </p><p>“Midnight will certainly come for him if I do not,” Thor argues. “I cannot keep her away forever.” </p><p>“Not on your own,” Loki agrees. </p><p>“Thanos will not simply allow me to escape.” </p><p>“No, I don’t imagine he will. And you can’t escape him alone either.” </p><p>Thor frowns at his brother. “Since when have you ever allowed anyone to help you?” </p><p>Loki shrugs. “Since meeting your insufferable Midgardian friends. They forced me to join the Avengers.” </p><p>Thor chuckles a little at that. “Never known anyone to force you to do anything, either.” </p><p>“Perhaps my pride has taken a beating recently,” Loki’s lips tug into a small, remorseful smile, and he looks over. “A much-needed one.” </p><p>Gone are the men who were parted on that bridge. Thor has always known Loki to be intelligent, but never this wise and thoughtful. It would seem the past century took its toll on him, too. Maybe Loki’s been paying for his mistake all this time. </p><p>“Is Steve alright?” Loki asks. </p><p>Thor shrugs. “I have no idea.” </p><p>“Perhaps you should go and find him, then,” Loki suggests, standing up. He offers down his hand. “Shall I walk you back to the city?” </p><p>Thor shakes his head, giving himself some time to appraise the hand before taking it. His brother helps him to his feet and politely lets go. Thor brushes himself off, self-consciously ruffling his damp hair. It’s managed to dry a little under Loki’s umbrella. </p><p>Loki draws himself up and smooths out his suit. “Thor, I will always be your brother, and I promise to make right what I’ve done. If she or anyone else comes for you, I will be there. And if you need me, call for me. I will come. If you wish to remain here, I will respect that. No-one else shall know of what happened. I swear everything on my life, as the Allfather of the Nine Realms, and as your brother.” </p><p>For some reason, Thor wants to salute. He starts, but lowers his hand and brushes his pants. “Thank you.” He looks away. </p><p>“Perhaps you would not allow a hug, but maybe this,” Loki holds out his hand with a weak smile. “It is a common Midgardian gesture, I believe.” </p><p>Thor slides his hand into his brother’s and shakes it. “That it is,” he agrees. </p><p>Things aren’t right, but they’re better. If Steve never wants to see Thor ever again, then at least Loki will protect him from Midnight’s wrath. The Allfather takes a couple of steps back and pauses before approaching again and handing over his umbrella. Before Thor can protest, Loki has backed up again, and the bi-frost is plucking him from Earth, and from the storm. He can almost see Asgard shimmering in the distance when he stares up the pillar of light as far as his eyes will let him. </p><p>The light is gone. Thor lowers his head and raised the umbrella over it. Loki is right: he should go make sure that Steve is alright, at the very least. After that, he can decide what to do. Nothing else can be done until he checks on Steve, so he doesn’t bother trying to think about it until then. Covered in wet grass and mud, and soaked to the bone from head to toe, he starts the long walk back to the tower.  </p><p>When the clouds finally start to thin, it’s lighter than when he left. Not by much, with the storm persisting, but enough that Thor can tell it’s daytime. Late, too. He must have been out in the storm for hours. How many did he spend sitting there alone...? By the time the tower is in sight, it’s evening. Thor walks past other people wrapped in rain coats scurrying to where they need to be. They’re shivering from the cold, but it’s not bothering him. He is shivering though, his stomach rolling with fear as he approaches the front lobby door of the tower, closing the umbrella with a trembling hand and knocking. </p><p>It takes a few torturous seconds before the lock clicks and the doors slide open, allowing him to squelch inside. “Mr. Stark and the others are waiting for you upstairs in the common area,” JARVIS announces, and he jumps. “If you step into the elevator, I will take you.” The elevator doors open with a cheerful ding. </p><p>Thor does his best to wipe his feet on the mat, but his shoes leave muddy footprints on their way over. “Sorry,” he mumbles mostly to himself. The doors shut before Thor can consider leaving this for another day. He’s still trembling uncontrollably, and he feels ill. </p><p>“Captain Rogers is alright,” JARVIS says, his tone a shade softer than usual. “He will recover.” </p><p>Thor sighs, but it doesn’t take away the fear. On the verge of passing out, he steps out of the elevator and into the room where the Avengers are waiting. </p><p>The Avengers-minus-one – Steve isn’t there. The group is gathered in the sitting area around the table they ate at just the night before, looking grim, and clearly in the midst of an important discussion. </p><p>“I know! I tried, but he asked me to leave,” Natasha is saying. “I didn’t want to make him uncomfortable. You know how private he is.” </p><p>“Someone needs to keep an eye on him,” Tony argues. “At least someone to stop by and make sure he’s feeding himself.” </p><p>“He’s a grown man,” Bruce interjects. “Though I agree that someone needs to check-” The doctor looks up and spots Thor standing there, dripping wet and hunched like a dog that’s just been yelled at. </p><p>The others turn and spot him, and Thor clutches his umbrella as if it could protect him. “You,” Tony growls, stomping over ahead of the others. “Do you have any <em> idea </em> how badly you hurt him-” </p><p>“Tony,” Natasha barks, catching up with him and grabbing his arm. “Tony. Don’t.” </p><p>“Don’t what? Yell at the guy who beat the shit out of Steve? Unprovoked? Need I mention he tried to steal the tesseract? For the enemy?” Tony wrestles. </p><p>“We’re all angry,” Natasha replies, and Thor shrinks, unable to stop himself from holding the umbrella across his chest. “But just... save it.” She looks over, and her eyes are a mixed with anger as she searches him. “Let’s hear him out first.” </p><p>“He did come all the way back here,” Bruce reasons, calm and discerning. </p><p>“Is Steve alright?” Thor blurts. He needs to hear it from them. Tony’s words frighten him. </p><p>“Banged to hell,” Tony replies briskly. “You <em> did </em> beat the shit out of him. And it takes a lot to beat the shit out of a super-soldier.” </p><p>“<em> But, </em> " Natasha adds, “he <em> will </em> be alright. He spent the day at the hospital, but he’s home now. I dropped him off about an hour ago.” </p><p>“None of his injuries are too serious,” Bruce reassures. “The doctors think he’ll be good as new in no more than two weeks. I think more like one-and-a-half, but we’ll see.” </p><p>That’s a relief, though a miniscule one. He’s still caused hurt and pain, and breached the trust of these people who have welcomed him into their lives, and into their team. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, because it’s the best he can do right now. It’s not enough, though. He has to prove it. “I did not intend to hurt him.” </p><p>“Bold words from the guy who kicked his ass,” Clint speaks up, arms folded. “Give us a good reason why we should believe a word you say.” </p><p>“I didn’t... I never wanted to,” Thor can feel his chest tightening again, but he refuses to cry here. It won’t do any good, not for himself or for Steve. It won’t fix the rift he’s torn. The best he can do is be honest, but he’s struggling to speak. Four people staring at him isn’t exactly helping. The words get caught, though he knows he has to say them. Steve isn’t here to help. He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. His chest is constricting, and his body won’t stop shaking </p><p>“Thor...” Natasha softens first, coming closer and reaching out. “Come on. Come sit. Tell us what happened. Clint, go get some dry clothes? He’ll fit the spares Steve keeps with his stuff. Go put the coffee on, Tony, please.” </p><p>Tony huffs and walks away without another word, but does as she asks, as does Clint. </p><p>“I’ll get some towels,” Bruce offers and leaves too. </p><p>Natasha gently guides Thor over to the dining table by the windows, pulling out a chair for him. “Sit,” she orders. “Ignore them. You’ve done more than enough to prove that you’re on our side. And I don’t think you’re a con-artist either. But you did hurt Steve, and we want to know why.” </p><p>Thor swallows, clutching the umbrella with both hands while he struggles to draw an even breath. </p><p>“Here,” Natasha gives him some water that Tony brings over. “Catch your breath, alright? Nobody here is going to hurt you.” </p><p>Thor drinks, and does his best to breathe. Tony isn’t long with the coffee, which Natasha replaces his glass of water with and urges him to drink. The liquid is warm and comforting, reminiscent of his time on the farm, and more recently, his time spent with Steve. He wishes he could go back to those easy days, when he and Steve would lounge on the sofa, before Midnight barged in. </p><p>Clint arrives, setting some clothes on the table. Bruce isn’t far behind with the towels. Between the umbrella and the coffee, Thor can’t make either hand let go so he can grab them, but the doctor unfolds them and drapes one around his shoulders, and another over his head. Thor looks shamefully at the floor, at his sneakers oozing muddy water. </p><p>Everyone hangs back but Natasha, who stays closer while leaving a safe gap. “Thor? What happened?” </p><p>Thor looks up at his coffee, then at the Widow. “Th-they... they were going to... t-to hurt him.” </p><p>“Who’s ‘they’, Thor? Thanos?” Natasha presses gently. </p><p>Thor nods. “He sent his Children for me. I was to bring him the tesseract or... or they would...” </p><p>“Or they would hurt Steve?” Natasha finishes, but she isn’t angry. </p><p>“Is he okay?” Thor pleads again. “Really?” </p><p>Natasha smiles sadly. “He’s pretty banged up, but he’ll be alright. You should go see him. He’s been out of it all day. I think he misses you.” </p><p>Thor lowers his head again in shame. “After what I’ve done to him?” </p><p>“Steve’s tough. He can take a beating,” Natasha reassured. “If you know him at all, you know he won’t hold a grudge for that. It’s not his style. Truth be told, he seemed more hurt that you ran away than anything else. You mean a lot to him. You... He needs you.” </p><p>“He can’t,” Thor whispers down at his coffee mug. “He has you. He should not...” </p><p>“You make him happy,” Natasha shakes her head. “We’re all his friends, but he likes you the most. We’ll always be here for him, and he needs us too, but he’s got something with you that he doesn’t have with the rest of us.” </p><p>“But I hurt him-” </p><p>“You did,” Natasha agrees. “But you’re here now. <em> He’s </em> here now. It’s what you do now that matters.” </p><p>“I tried to take the tesseract,” Thor swallows. “For your enemy. One who would harm your people.” </p><p>“And you didn’t,” Natasha replies. “We’ve all be tempted to help one person we care about instead of the greater good. It’s not always a choice you have to make, though.” </p><p>“Thanos will come with or without it,” Thor whispers hoarsely. “His Children will harm Steve, and all of you. He will not spare you if I resist him.” </p><p>“You act like there’s only one person in the whole world fighting this battle,” Natasha smiles at him. </p><p>“If you’d told us, I’d have made Steve walk around in an Iron Man suit,” Tony butts in, walking up to Natasha’s shoulder. “We’re a team, right?” </p><p>“We are,” Bruce agrees, walking around with Clint to join the huddle. </p><p>“One mistake doesn’t undo everything you’ve done to help Steve, and to help us,” Natasha says. </p><p>“Even if it is a pretty big mistake,” Tony adds, which earns him a nudge from Bruce. </p><p>“You put your life on the line for us,” Natasha ignores the inventor. “And Steve still trusts you. If he isn’t going to condemn you for what happened, then it’s definitely not fair for us to.” </p><p>A ripple of agreement passes through the group, and Thor finds the strength to look up at them from under his towel. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “It... it will not happen again.” </p><p>“It better not,” Tony agrees. “But I think you better dry off and go make sure Steve’s at least not trying to run laps... See if you can make him eat something. None of us managed.” </p><p>“He’ll be glad to see you,” Natasha says, standing up. “Drink your coffee, then go get changed. You can text with his cell-phone if either of you need anything. We’ll all be here.” </p><p>Thor nods, and in half and hour he’s warm and dry, dressed in a clean set of Steve’s clothes, his dirty ones in a plastic bag and his umbrella in-hand. He leaves the tower and starts the walk to the apartment. It’s very odd making the trip alone. </p><p>Will Steve be awake when he gets in...? At least he’s well enough to be sent home. That’s a relief. Thor squeezes the bag and his umbrella as he walks, fearful and nervous despite the reassurances from his friends. There was a spare key with Steve’s things, which he nearly drops as he pushes it into the lock. </p><p>The door swings open, and he steps quietly inside. All the lights are off, apart from a lamp in the living room. Thor shuts the door and closes his umbrella, leaving it with his shoes. “Steve...?” he whispers, licking dry lips. “Steve, are you home?” </p><p>He turns the corner, and Steve is there, laid out on the sofa as if he collapsed and didn’t bother to make himself more comfortable. One leg has slipped off the side, while the other is stretched out straight. Under a loose pair of sleep pants and the firm brace strapped over top, it’s clearly wrapped. His arm, too, is wrapped in a soft cast and limp on his belly while the other dangles. A thick bandage around his forehead pushes his hair up at odd angles, and his eye is a little swollen. A pair of crutches rest against the back of the sofa. He looks awful. </p><p>But he’s asleep. Thor sets down his bag and pads over, freezing when Steve jolts in his sleep and mutters something unintelligible. When the soldier doesn’t show any signs of waking, Thor walks closer. There’s a plate on the coffee table with an untouched sandwich on it; clearly, Steve hasn’t eaten the dinner Natasha must have made him. Thor picks it up and walks it to the fridge before coming back to the sofa. He can’t just leave Steve here spread out like this... Thor bites his lip and gets to his knee, taking Steve’s good arm by the wrist as gently as he can and wrapping it around his neck. He has no right to touch his friend, but he can’t leave him here either. Thor slides his other arm under Steve’s legs and carefully lifts him off the sofa. </p><p>Steve grunts and groans, and his eyelids wobble, but he doesn’t wake up. His fingers curl into Thor’s sweater the instant they move out of the living room. As carefully as he can, Thor carries his friend to his bed, maneuvering him through the doorway and laying him on the mattress. He slides the blankets from under the soldier and folds them back, gathering the pillows from the other side of the bed. He props Steve up a bit higher, then arranges the rest under the soldier’s leg, careful not to jostle it. It’s quite something that Steve is so deeply asleep this early, but it means that he’s healing, and that Thor can tuck him in without being caught. He folds up the blankets and tucks them around Steve’s shoulders, stepping back now that his work is done. </p><p>Steve jumps, the muscles in his jaw flexing and his head rolling near-violently on the pillow. <em> Nightmares. </em> Thor knows what to do for that. He runs off, first gathering the crutches from the living room and propping them against the wall within reach. Then he darts into his room for the phonograph.</p><p>The smell of sex is gone, and the bed is made with clean sheets and blankets, untouched as it has been since he started sleeping in Steve’s bed. Thor picks up the phonograph and shuts the door behind him. He slips back into Steve’s room and sits on the floor at the foot of the bed, wiping away a couple of gathering tears while forcing down the rest. Now is the time to make amends, not wallow in self-pity. Thor sets his jaw and winds up the phonograph. </p><p>All through the night, he sits there, making sure the music plays without pause. Steve sleeps deeply, soundlessly, and when he finally starts to stir, Thor gets up, his heart racing. He risks one last look back at his friend, and though irrational, the fear wins. He returns the phonograph to his room, and leaves the apartment. </p>
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<a name="section0021"><h2>21. Chapter 21</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Talkin' time B)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>After the flurry of events that led from Thor decking him in the head, to here, Steve just wants to be alone. Natasha drove him home and helped him up to his apartment, where he was ordered to rest and eat. He doesn’t have much of an appetite. She leaves reluctantly, waving a concerned good-bye, but honoring his wishes for privacy. </p><p>He hurts all over, but nobody can help him. No medicine will take away the ache in his body, or his heart. If Thor had stolen the tesseract, they could have at least tracked him, but so far there’s been no sign of his friend since he ran off into the thunder storm alone. What if Midnight found him? Steve eases himself onto the couch, defeated. There’s nothing he can do. If she found Thor, then he broke his promise. </p><p><em> If you’d just let me help... We could have found a solution together. </em> His injuries will heal. The break in his wrist is so clean, that Bruce talked the doctors out of putting his arm in a cast. The serum won’t have any problem with it. His knee was popped so neatly out of place, and his leg is only fractured, so they didn’t have to cast that either. All-in-all, he’ll heal up nicely. Even his impressive concussion feels better. Steve can’t help but be a little impressed that Thor managed to crack his skull. </p><p>All he has to do is rest. Steve looks over at the sandwich Natasha made for him, knowing he should eat, but unable to make his hand reach for the plate. He doesn’t feel up to it. </p><p>He should never have asked Thor to kiss him. It was too soon. What was he thinking? How many days ago had Thor last been raped, and Steve was asking for more intimacy than Thor already trusted him with? <em> Bad call, Rogers. </em> Emotions got the better of him. They still are. His heart hurts more than his head. It felt so good to kiss Thor like that. Warm. Now he feels cold in his apartment alone. It doesn’t feel right, and Thor’s alone somewhere, suffering. Steve has no way to reach him – they both left their cell phones behind for that mission. That was the first thing he checked when he got home, but sure enough they were both on the kitchen counter left to charge. </p><p>Steve knows it would be better to rest in his bed, but he doesn’t feel like moving now that he’s here. With the serum working hard to repair him, and with so little energy to work with, he falls to sleep as soon as he shuts his eyes. Unsurprisingly, it’s a tumultuous sleep. </p><p>The music comes to him again, rescuing him from his nightmares before they can suck him away. So many times, that music has saved him. He hasn’t needed it in ages though, not since he started sleeping tangled up with Thor. A warm touch does wonders too. What he wouldn’t give to have that right now... </p><p>-- </p><p>As Steve starts to wake up, he can hear voices – a man and a woman. <em> Thor... </em> he thinks immediately. <em> Then who’s the woman...? Midnight! </em> His eyes fly open, and he struggles to sit up, but when the bedroom door opens it’s Bruce and Natasha who enter. </p><p>“Hey Steve, sorry, just us,” Natasha jogs over and pushes him down. “Didn’t mean to startle you. We just thought we’d come check up on you.” </p><p>Bruce has a bag with him. “Mind if I look you over?” he approaches. “Figured you’d rather us...” </p><p>“Sure,” Steve croaks his agreement. </p><p>Natasha walks around and sits on the bed beside him. “You look a little better,” she remarks. “Glad to see you had the sense to go to bed.” </p><p>Bed, right... Steve squints and looks around. He doesn’t remember walking here, but his crutches are right there against the wall. He’s rather comfortably arranged, and his leg is even propped up on some pillows. No, he has no memory of walking here, but with his head injury interfering, maybe he forgot. Did he tuck himself in, too...? </p><p>Bruce checks his eyes and asks him some questions, which he’s able to answer. The doctor exposes the deep split in Steve’s forehead, and picks up some tweezers. “Well, the skin is sealed,” he announces. “How do you feel?” </p><p>“Fine.” It’s true enough. Nothing hurts enough to debilitate him, and he can think straight now, which is nice. </p><p>“Thor here?” Natasha frowns. </p><p>“Did you see him?” Steve resists the urge to sit up and look around, but holds himself still so Bruce can cut out his stitches. </p><p>“He stopped by the tower yesterday night,” Natasha’s frown deepens. “We sent him your way. I guess you didn’t see him...” </p><p>“But he’s alright...?” </p><p>“Not really,” Natasha admits. “He was tearing himself up for what he did to you. He’s scared, Steve. I tried to talk him down, but I guess he ran off again.” She smiles apologetically. “Sorry. We’ll keep an eye out for him, and let you know if we find anything.” </p><p>“Not your fault,” Steve says quietly. “Thanks Nat, Bruce...” </p><p>“Not a problem,” Bruce says, cutting out the last stitch. “Just take it easy, alright? Tony will have JARVIS do facial recognition scans. We’ll find him.” </p><p>“You’ve got a collection of the best spies and scientists in the world at your disposal,” Natasha squeezes his hand.  </p><p>“Thanks guys,” Steve smiles wearily. It doesn’t mend his wounded heart, but it does make him feel better. <em>Sleep it off, Rogers. </em> He’s good at that. </p><p>“Of course,” Bruce tapes some gauze over the wound and gives him a smile.</p><p>“Can we get you some breakfast?” Natasha offers. “We can stay, if you like...” </p><p>“That’s okay,” Steve smiles gratefully. “I’ll... I’ll make myself something later. I think I’m gonna sleep a bit more first though.” </p><p>“Sure thing,” Natasha crawls carefully off the bed and walks around beside Bruce, bending down and kissing his cheek. “Don’t be too hard on that leg, okay?” </p><p>“Copy,” he salutes her weakly. </p><p>“Text if you need anything,” she salutes back.  </p><p>“I will,” he agrees obediently. “Thank you.” </p><p>“Feel better,” Bruce offers. Then he packs up his stuff, and they both leave.  </p><p>Steve waits until the door shuts behind them before sighing shakily and folding down the blankets. He should have let them stay and help him, but after a day of constant pestering from doctors and nurses, of being touched and grabbed constantly, he needs to be alone for a little while. If his friends stay, they’ll know how achy he is, and though he appreciates their concern, there’s nothing they can do for him – he would much rather be left alone to fend for himself, where he can wince and groan freely. Mostly, his wounds are merely an annoyance. </p><p>Thor’s face is stuck in his brain, as much as he tries to focus on looking after himself at least for a few minutes. Steve pushes himself up and sits on the edge of the bed, nursing his head. Thor’s attacks came so fast, he didn’t have time to react even if he wanted to. That’s rare, that someone can take him by surprise and overwhelm him. He can’t remember it happening after the serum. There’s just nobody on Earth strong enough to punch Captain America so hard his skull splits. </p><p>Apart from Thor. Maybe Steve underestimated him. He did push his friend... If he’d tried a different tactic, they might not be here. Even as he rises to his feet and the throbbing becomes more prominent, he can’t bring himself to be angry. Steve holds his wrist against his chest and tucks one crutch under his other arm to lean on. His leg is too sore to bear much weight, so he does his best to protect it as he hobbles into the kitchen. </p><p>Natasha’s sandwich is in the fridge, but he doesn’t feel like eating it. Maybe for lunch, when he feels better. Eggs and toast sound more appealing to his empty stomach. Steve leans his crutch against the kitchen counter and turns on the stove, gathering his supplies from the fridge and laying them out. With such thick padding around his palm, he struggles to stabilize the pan while cracking the egg, but he manages. The egg drops into the butter, but he cracked it too hard and some shell falls in. Steve holds onto the split shell and tries to scoop out the fragment, but his hand is shaking just enough that he can’t quite get it. Frustrated, he tries again. </p><p>There’s a knock on the door. Steve turns and pauses, abandoning his egg and limping along the counter so he can peer into the landing. He opens his mouth to call that the person can come in, but Bruce and Natasha locked the door behind them. He grunts and starts to turn back for his crutch, knowing he’ll need it beyond the support of the counter, but a key slides into the lock and he stops. </p><p>Slowly, the door handle turns, and the door pushes open. Thor slips inside, soaking wet and pale under the deep, dark circles around his eyes. They stare at each other for a moment or two before Thor finally moves, shutting the door behind him and walking into the kitchen. Speechless, Steve turns around and starts his slow trek back to the stove, where he resumes trying to fish out the shell – it's the only thing he can think to do while his brain reels and his heartbeat picks up. He should ask if Thor’s okay, where he’s been, if he needs anything. He should at least tell his friend he’s alright- </p><p>Thor appears at his side, and he’s discarded his sweater, wearing just a damp t-shirt underneath. It’s one of Steve’s spares from the tower. Thor stares into the pan, then at the shell in Steve’s hand. He takes it, steadying the pan and scooping out the egg fragment. Then he reaches over and shuts off the heat, guiding Steve’s hand under the tap. Thor cleans away all the egg in silence, then towels their hands dry before draping Steve’s good arm across his shoulders and holding the soldier around the waist. Easily strong enough to take all of Steve’s weight, Thor helps him limp to the sofa and eases him sitting. He turns Steve around and rests his leg up on the sofa. Then he walks solemnly back to the kitchen. Steve hears the stove turning back on, and more eggs cracking into the pan.  </p><p>Is this how Thor feels, when he has things to say but the words won’t come? Steve rearranges words in his head while Thor cooks, struggling to know what’s best. Those struggles have nothing to do with his concussion. </p><p>Not much time is afforded to him; Thor finishes cooking in a few short minutes, and is walking back with eggs neatly piled onto some buttered toast, arranged in a bowl so Steve can more easily eat reclined. He sets the bowl in Steve’s lap with some cutlery and starts to pull away, but Steve grabs the bottom of his shirt and stops him. </p><p>“Thor,” he winces, adjusting his position so he can look up high enough, but Thor gets to his knee and stills him with a frown. Steve locks eyes desperately. “Don’t punish yourself, please. You don’t have to, and I don’t want you to.” </p><p>“Look what I did to you,” Thor replies, his voice quieted by the tears struggling free. He looks down ashamed and rubs his eyes, shaking his head furiously. “I shouldn’t... I’m sorry. I shouldn’t cry...” </p><p>“Why not?” Steve challenges gently, letting go of Thor’s shirt and cupping the back of his friend’s head as if to hold him there. “Why not, Thor?” </p><p>“Look what I did to you...” Thor pushes his palms into his eye sockets, gritting his teeth. “Don’t deserve to.” </p><p>“Who says you don’t deserve to feel the way you do?”  Steve challenges gently. </p><p>“I hurt you,” Thor shakes his head. </p><p>“I’ll get better.” </p><p>“Steve, please...” Thor growls. “Please... I still hurt you, when I promised not to.” </p><p>“And I’ll get better,” Steve persists. “I’m not angry, Thor.” </p><p>“You have to let me be sorry!” Thor drops his hands angrily. “It does not matter whether or not you will heal. I still did it!” </p><p>“I forgive you,” Steve holds his position. “I’m not going to... to yell at you, or punish you somehow. You didn’t mean to do it, right?” Thor opens his mouth to protest, but stalls, eyebrows furrowed. “You didn’t want to do it. It was an accident.” </p><p>“You trusted me, and I did this to you.” Like a broken record, Thor retraces his argument, seemingly hell-bent on receiving some kind of reprimand for his mistake. </p><p>“If it’s punishment you want, I think you’ve already taken more than your fair share,” Steve reasons. “Looks like you’ve suffered more than enough to pay for it.” </p><p>Reason against emotions is rarely a fair fight, but for now he seems to have won. Either Thor gives up, or saves their argument for another day, sagging and wiping his eyes.  </p><p>Steve wipes some of the tears away too, resting his hand against Thor’s cheek with a calm smile. “I was worried about you,” he says. “Are you okay?” </p><p>Thor pauses, but eventually gives a bashful nod and a mumbled ‘yes’. </p><p>“And so am I,” Steve promises. “I’ll be alright.” He smiles encouragingly. “You should eat something. There’s a sandwich in the fridge. Nat makes good sandwiches.” He has a bad feeling that Thor might not have eaten anything in a while. </p><p>To his great relief, Thor gets up and wobbles to the kitchen, sitting back down with the sandwich in his lap. “Are you sure...?” he peers up with big eyes, as if it may be a trap. </p><p>“Sure I’m sure,” Steve smiles. “Eat it.” </p><p>Thor eats, and so does Steve. Both of them are hungry, and there isn’t room to talk between mouthfuls, serving the adjusting silence. By the end of the meal, Thor looks more relaxed, and things feel... not right, but closer to normal. </p><p>“Thanks,” Steve cradles the bowl so he can push himself up. “Was good.” </p><p>Thor quickly puts down his plate and reaches over to help, but he stops himself before he makes contact, hovering in fearful concern. The temptation to insist he’s alright to get on by himself is strong, but the urge to reassure his friend is stronger, so Steve leans closer and wraps his arm around Thor’s neck. </p><p>“It’s alright, I trust you,” he says quietly, wanting so badly to kiss Thor’s cheek, but holding himself back. </p><p>“Steve-” Thor doesn’t pull away, holding perfectly still. He’s trembling. </p><p>“I trust you,” Steve says a bit more firmly. “You’re not going to hurt me.” </p><p>“You said that before,” Thor whispers. </p><p>“I guess I didn’t factor in some crazy space bitch blackmailing you,” Steve smiles with upturned eyebrows. “You’re here, aren’t you? S’how I know you didn’t mean it.” </p><p>Thor’s arm snakes around his back and helps him sit. “I’m sorry,” he says, and though his voice is quiet, it’s more even and confident than before. </p><p>“It’s okay,” Steve keeps up his reassuring smile. “And I forgive you. I’m just glad you’re here.” </p><p>“Can I stay?” Thor asks. “I... have nowhere else to go.” </p><p>“Thor... of course you can stay,” Steve rushes. “Of course. You’re my friend. People make mistakes. I’m not gonna kick you out for that. Some friend I’d be if I did that.” </p><p>Thor does smile a little at that, pushing himself under Steve’s arm and hoisting him to his feet, taking the soldier’s entire weight once more. “I’m certain most friends do not put each other in the hospital.” </p><p>Steve leans into the help and limps slowly along, smiling softly. “Yeah, well, I don’t think we’re ‘most people’.” </p><p>“No, I suppose not,” Thor replies, and it comes a little easier this time, a little lighter, punctuated by a small sigh of submission. “Perhaps to bed... you look rather pale. Are you certain you’re alright?” </p><p>“Just sore,” Steve assures, giving in to Thor’s good judgement. “First few days are always the worst. You didn’t break me too badly. Just... all over.” He chuckles faintly. </p><p>“I snapped your arm in half,” Thor frowns, displeased as he helps Steve lie down in his bed. “Forgive my lack of confidence in your judgement.” He cradles Steve’s leg and props it up before drawing the blankets to the soldier’s chest. </p><p>Steve lays his arms on top. “S’fair,” he agrees. “S’why I got people to look after me.” </p><p>Thor smiles and looks away, but he looks back up when Steve pats the mattress beside him, and sits carefully, waiting with concern when he notices Steve’s troubled expression. </p><p>“I’m sorry I kissed you,” Steve says. “Wasn’t thinkin’ straight...” he trails off as Thor looks down at his lap, dejected. Steve hurries to correct himself, searching for the right words. “I... I enjoyed it,” he promises. “I <em> really </em> liked it... You have no idea how much I liked it. But it’s not about me. It was bad timing. I should have left it a little longer... You went through something traumatic, and I... I should have waited. I’m sorry. I’m sure it made things harder...” </p><p>With young, budding hope in his eyes, Thor looks back up. “I liked it too,” he says quietly, a quiver in his voice. “I don’t regret it.” </p><p>“Me neither,” Steve tries not to think too much about how much his heart is pounding. </p><p>When Thor looks down at his lap again, it aches. His friend plays with his fingers and sniffs. “Midnight will harm you,” he whispers. “Or take me. I cannot allow her to ruin this, too. She already...” he swallows, and his voice drops another decibel. “She already nearly did. She already ruined me.” </p><p>“Aw Thor, she didn’t ruin you,” Steve reaches out, wrapping his index around Thor’s pinky and dragging the hand away from the other. “You’re... maybe a little beat up, but you aren’t ruined. You’re strong, and kind, and so brave. She put you through hell, and you’re still here. You’re making it through, still fightin’.” Steve smiles encouragingly. “Even if you don’t want to kiss again, or you’re not sure, that’s okay. I’ll still be your friend, and I’ll still be here to fight with you. Me, the Avengers, and SHIELD. Whenever those bastards decide to show up, we’ll all be there to help. She’s not taking anything else from you.” </p><p>“She wanted me to kill you,” Thor takes Steve’s hand and holds it tightly, like he’s indulging himself in a treat at midnight with the hope he doesn’t get caught. Not even a treat, but a vital substance, a drink of water on a hot day. He rubs that hand with his fingers, clutching it protectively, as if one of them is falling away. Steve’s not sure if Thor’s tethering himself, or trying to hold Steve lest he be snatched away. Maybe both. “She told me she would harm you unless I killed you. She threatened to... t-to... r-rape you.” </p><p>Chills wash through Steve’s body, chills and rage. He grips Thor’s hand back and sits up higher. Of course Thor’s abuser would threaten to use what she’d been using to rule over Thor on someone else. Something Thor knows for himself to be horrific. </p><p>“We’re all going to protect each other,” Steve promises. “You’re not alone, and I won’t let you face her by yourself. Whatever you decide to do, you’re my best friend, and that won’t change. That means I’m fighting with you. We’ll handle this together.” Now is as good a time to use his Captain’s voice as any. </p><p>“I don’t want you to get hurt,” Thor clutches the hand to his chest. “Please, Steve.” </p><p>“And I don’t want to see you get raped!” Steve bats back. “You aren’t ever going through that again!” </p><p>“I don’t want you to go through that either!” </p><p>“Then we’d better stick together, and make sure neither of those things happen!” Steve pulls, and Thor comes down into the hug, carefully laying himself across the soldier’s chest. Steve wraps his other arm around his friend’s back and squeezes. “We’re sticking together, okay? No more running off. If she talks to you again, you tell me.” </p><p>“I don’t want you to be reckless,” Thor murmurs.</p><p>“I won’t,” Steve promises. “But I’ll do what I have to. Good thing about me is I have a knack for bouncing back. I’m a tough guy to kill, and now I’ve got friends just as determined to keep me in the living world as this damn serum.” He smiles and gives Thor’s shoulder a pat. “We’re gonna get through this, one day at a time. I want you to be happy.” </p><p>“I am,” Thor sits up, looking Steve in the eyes. “I am. You have made me very happy, Steve.” </p><p>“Me too,” Steve smiles. They’re close enough to kiss, and nothing can describe how badly he wants to. He loves the strength of Thor’s mouth around his, of the beard rubbing around his lips. But he stops himself from sitting up and closing that small gap. He’s made his move, and Thor needs to hold the reins. </p><p>“I’m scared,” Thor’s voice breaks, tears welling up again. “Steve, I’m scared. She’s going to take everything from me.” </p><p>“She won’t,” Steve promises. “I’ll protect you.” </p><p>“I’m so afraid,” Thor wraps himself around Steve’s hand. “I don’t want her to touch me anymore.” </p><p>“I’ll protect you.” He’ll say it again, and again, as many times as he needs to. </p><p>“I don’t want to lose you,” Thor swallows painfully. “Steve... I want to kiss you.” </p><p>“Then do it,” Steve’s shaking too, flustered and heartbroken at once. “We go at your pace. Whatever feels good for you.” </p><p>“I want you to feel good too,” Thor shakes his head, dislodging a couple of tears that drip down onto Steve’s lips. “I don’t want to hurt you. What if she takes you...?” </p><p>“It’s okay,” Steve smiles. “But I’ll protect you if she comes for you, just like you’ll protect me if she comes for me.” </p><p>Thor nods vigorously. “She will not have you,” he promises. “And I... I am no longer a child of Thanos.” </p><p>Steve’s smile brightens with pride. “No, you’re not.” </p><p>“I will no longer obey him,” Thor wipes his eyes, gaining confidence with the next iteration. “I will no longer obey him.” </p><p>“Guess that makes you an Avenger now,” Steve says, giving Thor’s hand a proud squeeze. “If you like.” </p><p>“If you’ll have me,” Thor smiles, his tears taking a different flavor as they well up again. Boy, Thor sure has a lot of tears to cry. <em> Cry it out. Come on. </em> </p><p>“Glad to,” Steve breathes. “We could use a guy like you.” </p><p>Thor positively <em> beams </em> through his tears, which he lets go of Steve’s hand to wipe away. He stares down at the soldier and clasps his face, stroking back the soldier’s hair while delicately avoiding the nearby wound. He musters some strength to speak clearly and surely, though his voice is quiet and tender. “May I kiss you?” </p><p>That heart rate spikes, and Steve nearly forgets to answer. “Yeah,” he sighs out. “Yeah-” Thor’s lips press tenderly into his and hold for a few seconds. </p><p>“Sometimes you talk too much,” Thor says, staying close enough to dive back in before Steve can get an answer out. The next kiss is deeper, and Steve opens his mouth for it, tasting tears. </p><p>That’s fine. It gives him a little time to think before their next break. They pull away, breathless, though not from exertion. “Maybe if you didn’t leave all the talkin’ to me, that wouldn’t be a problem,” Steve raises his eyebrow. He barely gets a chance to finish before Thor is in his mouth again, hungry and deprived. Steve feels about the same. He feels like he’s high. </p><p>Thor does huff a little at that. He pulls back and holds his hand against Steve’s cheek. “Is this really alright?” he asks. </p><p>“If it’s alright with you,” Steve agrees readily. “Don’t have to make me happy.” </p><p>“I want to.” </p><p>“Only if you’re comfortable,” Steve insists, pushing himself up the pillows a little more. </p><p>Thor reaches in to help. “Very,” he confirms. </p><p>“Then shut up and kiss me some more,” Steve opens his mouth to invite more of what they both want. Thor gladly obliges. </p><p>-- </p><p>When Steve wakes up from his nap, he already feels much better. It helps that Thor’s back now, too. He must be in the kitchen cooking, because the apartment is full of the delicious smell of garlic and the lovely hot sound of bubbling. Steve smiles softly to himself and tries not to think too much about anything other than this moment. For now, everyone is safe, and Thor is here with him. </p><p>Thor nudges the door open with his foot, a bowl in each hand. He balances like a dancer, resting the door shut again with his foot and walking over. He puts the bowls on the nightstand and reaches out to help, but stalls as he gets within touching distance. Steve smiles encouragingly, and Thor touches him very gently, lifting him sitting higher in one sure motion. It might take a while for Thor to stop being afraid and guilty. As much as Steve wants to get by on his own, which he knows he can, he knows just as much that Thor might need to do this. Steve can’t say that his friend’s fussing is entirely unpleasant... He only wishes he could say the right thing to get rid of the guilt deeply soaked through it. </p><p>Friend...? What are they now? More than that, certainly, though still friends. Steve’s hesitant to suggest anything, and does it really matter, how they label their relationship? So long as both of them are happy and comfortable, it’s irrelevant. Steve’s very happy when Thor sets a hand to his forehead and lands a brief but tender kiss on his lips, hesitant as if afraid to allow himself any sort of indulgence. </p><p>“How did you sleep?” Thor holds up a bowl like a peace offering. </p><p>“Pretty good,” Steve smiles and rubs his eyes before accepting his gift. “Wow... Looks good.” He stares into a generous serving of pasta and chicken in a creamy garlic sauce. <em> I really am spoiled... </em> </p><p>The food tastes as good as it looks. Thor sits on the bed beside him and they eat together in peaceful silence. Peaceful enough... It’s evident that Thor is still clinging onto that guilt like a rock-climber dangling from a ledge. But there’s no drop, no harsh landing, nothing to be afraid of. </p><p>Steve licks his lips, spinning pasta in his bowl contemplatively. “Did she punish you?” he asks. “Is that why she- why she <em> told </em> you she did that stuff to you?” He can’t even bring himself to say the word. It’s just too vile. </p><p>Thor swallows and carefully lowers his fork into his bowl, prodding a noodle around the edge. He nods and rubs his nose, his throat leaping as if to speak, but no sound coming out. </p><p>It’s clearly a sensitive topic, but sometimes the thorn is barbed, and though it needs to be ripped out for the wound to heal, it can cause more damage. This is a weed in desperate need of uprooting. “You know she’s wrong, right?” Steve tests. “That’s... that’s just not right. It’s never right.” </p><p>“It was effective,” Thor reasons quietly. “I became a better warrior in a hundred years than Asgard could make me in ten times that.” </p><p>“There’s such a thing as ‘too effective’,” Steve replies. “There’s no excuse to justify what she did to you. I’m not going to punish you either, nor will anyone else.” </p><p>“I know...” Thor hangs his head. “But I did not... What I did was more than... more than not performing well enough on the battlefield, or not learning a move quickly enough. You cannot ask me to simply move on.” </p><p>“I’m not asking you to do that,” Steve agrees. “I’m just asking that you don’t expect punishment, or punish yourself. I’m not angry, and I forgive you. I think you need to forgive yourself, too.” </p><p>“That may be difficult,” Thor looks up. “I care for you very much.” </p><p>“I know,” Steve smiles. “That’s why you’re here, facing the hard thing instead of running away. You’re not ruined. It’ll take time to undo the damage she did to you, but you’ve already done the hardest part. Will you do me a favor...?” </p><p>Thor leans forward readily and nods. </p><p>“Go easy on yourself,” Steve raises his eyebrows commandingly. </p><p>“I will try...” Thor nods obediently. </p><p>“And I’ll help,” Steve promises, reaching out his hand. “But you have to promise me not to try to fight this alone. That’s my only condition.” <em> Nothing is too much to ask, Thor. Don’t do this alone. </em> </p><p>Thor bites his lips, but under it he’s smiling. “Okay,” he whispers, creeping his hand toward Steve’s and letting the soldier weave their fingers. “Okay. Thank you.” </p><p>-- </p><p>This peace can’t last forever, and both of them know that. Steve fiddles with the bandages on his arm as he thinks about what’s to come, and Thor cooks dinner. His friend quickly confined him to the table and forbid him to help in any capacity. </p><p>“How many Children are there?” Steve asks. “You mentioned more than one...” </p><p>“Four,” Thor explains as he stirs. “Four and Thanos.” </p><p>“Anyone else?” </p><p>“An army of rabid beasts,” Thor grimaces and presses his hand into his belly. “They are... bloodthirsty and care only for destruction. Thanos ordered them to obey me, but he may have retracted that order.” </p><p><em> Yeah, okay, we can handle that, right? </em> “When did they last talk to you? Did they say anything about when they might come?” Steve frowns. They might not have much time to prepare. The enemy could kick down the door any second. </p><p>Thor shrugs. “Midnight last spoke to me shortly before our last mission. She only ordered me to take the tesseract and kill you.” He stirs with increased focus. </p><p>“Did she tell you where to bring it?” Steve tries. The more information they have, the less likely they are to be taken by surprise, and killed in the process.  </p><p>Thor shakes his head. “She would find me. Thanos has the ability to watch those who follow him, and know their whereabouts. He can communicate with us through... dreams, of a kind. If they have not already given up on me, then I expect a message very soon.” </p><p>“How much can they see?” Steve queries, thoughtfully rubbing his chin. “Can they hear us?” </p><p>“No,” Thor shakes his head, turning off the stove and dividing the contents of the frying pan between two plates. He joins Steve at the table, skirting around the soldier’s leg propped on a chair. “They can see only vague details, and they cannot hear us.” </p><p>That’s a relief, and it opens up a few doors. Steve pulls his plate closer. “Then we can make a plan without them knowing. Could you convince them you can still get the tesseract?” </p><p>“Perhaps...” Thor frowns, eyes filled with determination. “I will do my best... What is your plan?” </p><p>“If they still think you can help them, it might buy us some time,” Steve reasons. “If you feel comfortable with that, of course. Nobody is coming in this apartment.” Little he can do right now if someone does decide to attack, but he’ll be healed very soon. If Thanos was willing to leave Thor for a couple of months, biding his time, perhaps they can spare a few more days. If he had to, Steve knows he could fight, but ideally he would have the time for his bones to fully heal and his headache to dissipate. It’s really hanging on, but the lights are quite dim, so it’s not too bad. His wrist must be fused by now, needing only the time to strengthen. The serum does well with bones. His fractured leg may be healed before the soft tissues in his knee are. </p><p>“I will do what I can,” Thor agrees confidently. “I will not be surrendering all the work of my rescue to you.” He gives a small, sly smile and a raised eyebrow. It’s very charming. </p><p>Steve smiles back, encouraged. “I suppose I’d better come up with something, then.” </p><p>“As the official ‘man with a plan’, I expect the best,” Thor teases, which despite the topic at-hand, lightens Steve’s heart. </p><p>“Of course,” he laughs. “It’ll be the best plan you’ve ever seen.” It’ll be the best, because he’s going to tell his friends about it as soon as he can, and they’ll help.  </p><p>-- </p><p>Thor helps him back to bed after the meal, and though it’s still early, Steve feels weary enough to fall right to sleep. His body will feel a lot better, with the serum making good use of all these substantial meals and long rests. Steve grabs the hem of his shirt and starts to pull it up, but somehow gets tangled in it, and he struggles to pull it down again now that he’s got his arm halfway through the sleeve. Thor untangles him patiently, then slides off the shirt, far more cautious with Steve's broken wrist than he needs to be.</p><p>"It's probably mostly healed," Steve notes, hoping to reassure. "Bones should be fused by now. Doc said more than a week, but I think it'll be less." <em>I don't think they worked Thor's TLC into their calculations...</em></p><p>"Surely the doctors know best," Thor questions with a tipped head, not scolding but curious.</p><p>“They don't know how fast the serum works,” Steve explains. “Nobody really knows how fast the serum works but me. They might have data, but, you know, not everything’s on record.” </p><p>Thor tucks him in and crawls into bed beside him in the lamplight. He pulls off his sweater and throws it aside, propping himself on an elbow to maintain eye-contact. “Were you injured much in the war?” </p><p>Steve shrugs. “I’ve taken a few bullets, yeah, but all the records on what the serum can do were taken in a lab. A battlefield isn’t exactly the ideal testing conditions, and you can’t always get to a hospital, either, so it’s not like they got a chance to write down how fast I heal. When there was a hospital nearby, I usually didn’t bother. Not too keen on’em, and they couldn’a done much for me anyway. Save the medicine for people who need it.” He remembers digging bullets out of himself and letting the serum take care of the rest. Even some more serious hits handled themselves. He can remember resting a little longer if the bleed was bad, but Captain America keeps going. Bullets don’t stop him. And if he happened to take a hit in the back, well, he had friends to help him dig those out. Just like he does now. </p><p>He can tell Thor is concerned by the tale, frowning in the dim light. He takes Steve’s hand contemplatively, rubbing his thumb around the knuckles. “I suppose it’s no use worrying when those days are so far gone,” he presses a reverent kiss into Steve’s hand. “I am grateful for your durability.” </p><p>“Me too,” Steve smiles. “I gotta say, I’d pick you over a hospital any day.” </p><p>“You are odd,” Thor smiles. “Perhaps I should be more concerned for your head.” </p><p>“I felt that way long before you decked me,” Steve chuckles. “You take really good care of me, you know? I mean it. I just wish that part of me that hates needing help wasn’t there... When you grow up sick all the time it’s sorta... Just lyin’ down and resting is hard sometimes.” </p><p>“You’ve been a good patient,” Thor encourages, squeezing the hand in his possession. </p><p>“Like I said, I’m pretty happy here with you,” Steve says. He hates the smell of hospitals. He hated leaving one wondering how the hell he was going to pay for his treatment. He hated wondering if this time, it would be too much, and he would die there in a white-washed room that felt like purgatory. The hospital took his mother, though he always admired her for doing what she could for others. He hated the hospitals in the war, after the serum, because pity was replaced with awe, though both were for his body. He was a novelty, a wonder. </p><p>Not here. Help is tough to ask for, but he doesn’t really have to ask with Thor, and everything is given so calmly that it helps him feel at peace with the fact that right now, he might need a hand or two. It won’t last forever, and while it’s here he doesn’t have to feel so useless. Besides, how could he try to limp and grimace his way from one room to the next when he has to confront Thor’s worried face? How could he turn down such charming eagerness? Not easily, that’s for certain. </p><p>And how long has it been since he’s been touched like this, so lovingly? Love has never been on Steve’s radar, not even with Peggy, because though he knew his heart beat a bit faster around her, he never pictured a future with her, not while the war was going on. Now he has a man in his bed, who’s scooching close enough to lay his head on the Captain’s shoulder. Thor wraps his arm around Steve’s belly, and Steve wraps his around Thor’s back, holding him close. Not so long ago, at least for him, he used to be the weaker one. Now, despite being the strongest human on the planet, he knows Thor is stronger still. There’s a half-healed split in his forehead to prove that, and muscles under his hand that promise power. Raw strength like Steve’s never seen, coupled with a spirit that cannot be vanquished. Steve shuts his eyes and hopes he has a long time to enjoy the company of the man in his arms. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0022"><h2>22. Chapter 22</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>It's kick-off time baby.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Bruce’s prediction was wrong: Steve heals up in a week flat. Just like that, everything is back to normal. </p><p>Well, not entirely... Some things are different, but in a good way. The team seems to have come to terms with Thor’s mis-step, and so has Thor himself. He made immediate progress the second Steve’s wounds showed signs of improvement. Still bruised and limping, but almost fully recovered at about four days in, Steve brought an understandably-nervous Thor to the tower for a much-needed plan. Thor kept close, hooking his foot around Steve’s ankle under the table, a secret alternative to holding hands.  </p><p>Three days later, on the one-week mark, the team still has barely anything to work with, but they’re still meeting up every day to discuss, and to stay as close as they can. </p><p>“You guys could still move in,” Tony offers again. “There’s lots of space. You could have a whole floor to yourself.” </p><p>Thor’s leg is wrapped around his under the table, as it has been for all their team meetings. It tightens. </p><p>“Thank you, Tony, really,” Steve smiles. “But maybe later.” Strategically, it would be better to stay here with the team, but if Thor’s not comfortable living with them just yet, then they won’t. Steve's not worried about the team finding out about his relationship, but he’s happy to keep it private for the time being, and it’s easier to do that in the apartment, even they would have their own living space here at the tower. </p><p>As the last few have been, this planning session is fruitless. Midnight and the others haven’t spoken to Thor recently, nor have they made any moves to attack. Everyone is growing increasingly anxious, especially Thor. Then again, Thor’s the one who knows the intimate details of what the Children will try to do to him. </p><p>The team finishes up their meal and everyone says their goodbyes. Steve takes his shield with him everywhere he goes now, so he shoulders the bag with it inside and steps out into the street with Thor at his side. All of this is clearly difficult for his friend to process, but he’s handling it so well, and Steve couldn’t be prouder. Once the tower is far enough away that he’s confident no spying eyes could see them, he offers his hand with a smile. Immediately, Thor accepts, sliding his fingers into Steve’s. With their hats on, nobody in the busy streets of New York pays them a second glance. Steve wonders what the people would think if they found out Captain America was with a man. They have their idea of who he’s supposed to be. Would they mind? It’s not something he gives <em> much </em> thought, because no-one takes any notice of him, and if it makes Thor happy, then to hell with what anyone else might think. The world if different now anyway, or so he’s been told. He’s seen a variety of people holding hands in public. This isn’t the forties anymore. Maybe nobody would care. </p><p>Ultimately, it’s not on Steve’s radar for his private life to end up in the public eye. That’s why he’s much happier when the apartment door closes and it’s just the two of them, alone. He can grab handfuls of Thor’s sweater and guide the other man closer, encouraging but never too forceful. There’s always a choice, always a way out, but Thor doesn’t resist, throwing his ball cap on the floor and lifting off Steve’s next. He steps closer and laces his fingers behind Steve’s waist, holding them together as he turns his head into the kiss, willing and loving. It feels good. No, this definitely isn’t the forties. </p><p>The kiss grows rougher, Steve squeezing Thor’s sweater tighter as the other man pushes his mouth more desperately into his. It’s more purposeful, more confident, more wanting, and every second of it is perfect. Steve gives enough not to be complacent to Thor’s onslaught, but lets his friend steer them, lets him have control over what they do and how fast they go. He trusts Thor completely, and he wouldn’t know where to take them if he had the reins to himself. So far, he likes where they’re headed. If they never go beyond this, that’s okay, but if they do... </p><p>Too soon. <em> Way </em> too soon. It’s not something Steve’s thought much about anyway, so it’s not difficult to banish the thought. More difficult than he expected it to be, though... </p><p>“You are beautiful,” Thor murmurs into his mouth. “I cannot fathom how I could deserve you.” One hand slides up the back of his head and rubs around his neck, then down to his chest to cup the ample muscle there. </p><p>Those are generous complements, ones that Steve’s not sure he deserves. He can’t help but smile though as he looks down at Thor’s hand. “That’d be the serum,” he reasons. </p><p>Thor shakes his head, cutting him off with a kiss. It does the job of shutting the soldier up, that’s for damn sure. “The serum did not invite me into your home,” he rasps. “Nor did it care for me when I had nothing. What I have now is you, not the serum. The serum merely protects you from me.” </p><p><em> I’m not following him. </em> Steve remembers Bucky’s words clear as day. Clear as the sight of Thor’s trusting eyes inches away from his own. </p><p>“Whatever the serum has changed, I do like what it has done,” Thor smiles, whispering it against Steve’s ear. His beard tickles as it rubs into his neck, and that hand slides down his chest and around his back. “Is this alright?” That confidence is colored with caution. </p><p>“Yeah,” Steve breathes hurriedly. “Yeah. This is good.” </p><p>“You would tell me if it were not?” </p><p>“Of course,” Steve agrees. “But I doubt... I’m not worried, that’s all. If you’re happy, I’m happy.” </p><p>Thor pulls back just enough to resume eye contact, thousand-year-old wisdom gleaming through. It’s very, <em> very </em> appealing. <em> Hot, </em> that’s the word. “And I am happy if you are,” he echoes. “I am not the only one who must derive pleasure from this. Your boundaries are just as important as mine.” </p><p>“Not really sure what my boundaries are to be honest,” Steve gives a small, bashful smile. “But really, Thor, this is good. I’ll let you know if it’s not, I promise.” </p><p>“Then I am content,” Thor smiles and slowly shuts his eyes, moving in again. Steve opens his mouth invitingly and wraps his hand around the back of Thor’s head, rubbing the soft, short hair with his fingers, then stroking down to the strong muscle across Thor’s shoulders. He rubs back up, holding Thor’s head in place, and Thor groans encouragingly. They can play it like this, without the need for words, as they’ve done for so long already. It comes naturally to both of them, reading each other’s cues, vigilant but unafraid. And for this moment, they have nothing to be afraid of, not each other nor what’s steadily marching toward them. </p><p>“To bed?” Thor quietly suggests, and Steve nods his agreement. He wraps his hand back around Thor’s, and they kick off their shoes, walking together to the bedroom. </p><p>Steve turns respectfully away to get changed into something more comfortable, leaving something on the bed for Thor. When he turns back around, his friend has changed as well, wearing just one shirt like he’s recently started doing. It clings to his body, hiding only the texture of the skin beneath, where Steve knows there are scars hidden. There are some on the grooved muscles of Thor’s arms, which leap and flex with each movement in a mesmerizing way. The way the borrowed pj pants rest on his hips makes Steve wonder how anybody could look at that and even think to touch with anything other than reverence. Steve folds back the duvet and backs up, opening his arms invitingly. They’re wrapped up in each other before they hit the mattress. </p><p>As they often do, Steve lays on his back and Thor rests on top of him. The other man doesn’t like to be on the bottom, not usually, and he doesn’t like to be on his back. Steve shivers even to consider why. He does like the weight of Thor’s body pushing him into the bed, though. It’s safe and warm, and though it reminds him of a time when he used to be small, when Bucky used to share a bed with him to keep his frail body warm, it’s new. Bucky never touched him the way Thor does, and likewise; Steve wraps one arm around Thor’s waist, and rubs comforting circles into his neck with the other. He works up, massaging into the base of Thor’s skull. </p><p>Thor sighs contentedly, adjusting his cheek on Steve’s shoulder. “It has been a long time since anyone touched me like this,” he murmurs. “I had forgotten.” </p><p>Steve pushes a kiss into Thor’s hair and keeps rubbing. He can do this for a long time. The serum will make sure of that. His fingers won’t get tired for a long time yet. “You know... I’m kinda surprised you’re up for this. I don’t think brave cuts it.” </p><p>“You are nothing like her,” Thor’s whispers grow quieter as Steve continues his ministrations. “You remind me of her only in your differences. She feels so far away...” </p><p>“You’re never going through that again,” Steve promises. “Never.” He’ll risk his life to keep that promise.  Seeing how much Thor enjoys this simple offering of respect, something that should be a given by default, reaffirms that. And what Thor’s giving him, this trust and proximity, is monumental and courageous. </p><p>-- </p><p>It’s another lazy day of trying to rework what little information they have into some kind of plan. The team sprawls around the common area with lunch, struggling to come up with something new, though they all know it’s useless. None of them want to be taken by surprise, but at this point, it’s just a matter of waiting, and watching with the hopes that if they are attacked, at least they’ll see it coming. Thor’s told them all he can about Thanos and the children, about their fight styles and strengths, about their weaknesses. There aren’t many, at least that Thor’s aware of. He was so segregated from them that he never got the chance to get to know them. If he was with them, they were usually abusing him in some way. Emotionally, physically, sexually... He has no memory of just... being around them. </p><p>The team still don’t know the extent of what the Children did to him, but Steve wonders if they’ve put the pieces together. If they have, they don’t bring it up, and they’ve put Thor’s mistakes in the past, which is the main thing. All of them are ready to take up arms to protect a fellow Avenger. Even if Thor hasn’t fought much with them, he’s still undeniably one of them. Steve can tell that it means a lot to Thor, and that’s comforted that five people are present and willing to stand between him and the people who persistently took advantage of him for a century.  </p><p>The food is long gone, and there is nothing else possible to discuss, no new angles to try, nothing to add to the plan other than ‘keep watch, be ready, fight as hard as you can’. They can’t know how the attack will come, what the Children will do, so they can’t make any specific decisions. They’ll have to improvise, which luckily Steve is good at, as are the others, though all of them would rather have more information going in. Fury has been informed, and is ready to rally the troops as-needed. SHIELD can fill the sky with guns at a moment’s notice. </p><p>Clint is midway through suggesting a game, when JARVIS interrupts. “There are reports of two unidentified aircrafts entering Earth’s orbit above New York.” </p><p>Thor stiffens immediately, and Steve grabs his hand almost as fast. Tony stands up. “Get the suit,” he orders. </p><p>“Right away,” JARVIS calmly agrees. </p><p>Clint and Nat stand up too. “I suppose we should suit up too,” the archer looks over at Steve, and the soldier nods, tightening his grip on Thor’s hand. </p><p>Steve hasn’t brought his suit. His shield is in the case resting against the couch. Though he can fight just as well in his street clothes, it would be wise to find something with a little more protection. The serum might be able to erase even the most devastating wounds, and his body is more resistant to damage to begin with, but he can’t say no to an extra barrier of protection. He’s not invulnerable. He opens his mouth. </p><p>“Fury dropped some stuff off not long after the team started fighting,” Tony pauses by the sofa on his way to the elevator. “Said you left a few things behind on the helicarrier. I think I saw a suit in there, but if not, I do keep spare stuff around. Should at least be a bullet-proof vest somewhere. JARVIS can take you.” </p><p>“Thank you, Tony,” Steve nods the inventor off. He looks over at Thor, then out the window as movement catches his eye. Two ships shaped like donuts are descending through the clouds. Thor follows his gaze, and a whimper bursts free. They’re alone, for the moment. Steve turns and grabs Thor’s other hand, staring his friend face-on. Thor is shaking, his breathing and heart-rate picking up as his body vibrates. He already looks like he’s started to lose himself to a world he can see behind his eyes, a world he fears may shortly become reality. It won’t. “Hey. Hey, it’s okay. They won’t take you,” Steve promises. “Just breathe. I’ve got you. Can you walk?” He needs to get geared up, but he’s not leaving Thor alone. </p><p>Thor’s not leaving him, either. His friend clutches on as Steve gets up, but he’s lucid enough to nod. </p><p>“I gotcha,” Steve promises, wrapping his arm around Thor’s waist and leading him toward the elevator. He scoops up his shield case as he goes, hurrying as fast as Thor’s stumbling legs can manage. “I gotcha, I promise.” </p><p>Thor nods, forcefully trying to regulate his breathing as they rush into the elevator. He leans into Steve, and Steve holds him, breathing as slowly and deliberately as he can. </p><p>“You’ve done so well,” he murmurs. “So well. I’m so proud of you. I just need you to breathe, okay? Breathe. With me, that’s it. I won’t let go.” </p><p>“I can’t go back,” Thor whines, on the verge of tears. “I can’t... I can’t go...” </p><p>“I know,” Steve soothes. “You won’t. We’re going to protect you. We won’t let them touch you. You aren’t leaving my sight.” </p><p>The Children haven’t even arrived yet, and they already hold so much power over Thor. Steve doesn’t usually feel this angry, nor does it usually wash so completely through his body and fill every part of him. But he doesn’t let it bleed into his touches, gently guiding Thor out of the elevator and into the suite Tony’s set aside for him. It’s huge and luxurious, but he doesn’t take the time to take it all in, instead taking Thor into the lounge area and letting him collapse into the armchair. Steve drops his shield on the nearby couch, right beside a stuffed duffel bag. He knows what’s inside. Steve grabs the handle and picks it up. </p><p>“I’m just going to get changed, I’ll be right back,” he starts to move away, but Thor grabs his shirt and shakes his head, sobbing out a garbled plea. Steve stays. </p><p>He strips as fast as he can while opening up the bag. Right on top of the spare clothes he left behind is that bright blue suit, paired with those bright red boots and bright red gloves. He pulls it out, feeling the kevlar-woven fabric. It’s not as strong as his black suit, but it’ll do. Steve sets his jaw. It’s time. </p><p>It’s reminiscent of his very first suit, the one he wore for the USO shows. The one that was tight and impractical, not made for battle at all, but for display. For people to look at and find hope. It was entirely ridiculous, laughable, but it gave people something to hang on to when they saw him on posters. It was a symbol. So Steve pulls up those too-tight trousers, and fastens the top closed over an undershirt. He does up the collar, and snaps the belt around his waist. He sits to put on his boots, but leaves the gloves for a moment, getting to his knee in front of Thor. Determinately, he grasps Thor’s head and guides it upward, kissing tear-stained lips. </p><p>Thor looks at him, breaking free of his prison long enough to observe what Steve’s wearing. He scans it from top to bottom, then back up again. “You look ridiculous,” he whispers. </p><p>“Hey,” Steve smiles. “That’s mean. I look like Captain America.” </p><p>“It’s very tight,” Thor sniffs, wiping his eyes and staring at Steve’s chest pushing into the suit. “Perhaps it has its merits...” </p><p>“That’s the spirit,” Steve wipes away a few errant tears. “Hey. I’m proud of you, okay? And I’m going to protect you. We all will. This isn’t just your fight anymore.” </p><p>Thor shivers and covers his face. “I cannot fight her anymore,” he groans. “No more, Steve.” </p><p>“No more,” he agrees readily. “No more. You’ve fought long and hard, for longer and harder than most people could have managed. It’s long past time for you to rest.” </p><p>“This is not your fight,” Thor peers through his fingers. “It is not. I cannot ask you to do this.” </p><p>“Well, you can’t stop me,” Steve smiles, wrapping his hand around the back of Thor’s head and drawing their foreheads together. “We’re a team. You’d do the same.” </p><p>“I would,” Thor hastily replies, “I would, Steve, I promise.” </p><p>“Good,” Steve gives him one last kiss. “Then stay close to me. Can you walk?” Thor nods, grasping the armrests and shakily pushing to his feet. Steve stands up with him and stabilizes him with a hand before putting on his gloves and picking up his shield. This suit, perplexingly, does not come with a harness, so he’ll have to carry it. It <em> does </em> come with a cowl and helmet, but they look impractically and uncomfortably designed, so he leaves them behind. He wraps his gloves hand around Thor’s and leads him back toward the elevator. </p><p>“Captain Rogers, there has been a breach in the laboratory!” JARVIS informs as the elevator doors close. </p><p>“Take me!” Steve orders, raising his shield and hanging tightly onto Thor’s hand. <em> I will protect you.  </em> </p><p>Whoever they are, they hurt Thor. It doesn’t matter which Child has arrived; Steve’s got enough rage to go around. After everything he’s witnessed, everything he’s seen Thor go through, and everything they’ve shared together, he’s positively <em>smoking</em>. What they did to such a beautiful, selfless person is despicable, and whatever their intentions toward Thor, whether it be to kill, or capture and resume their abuse, Steve won’t have it. When the elevator doors slide open, he shoves Thor behind him. </p><p>Just down the hall, an alien woman looks up. She’s got black horns and the cruel eyes of a predator. Her spear is poised, ready to smash through the glass and get to the tesseract, but she pauses her strike to stare at both of them. Her eyes fall to Steve first, then drift behind him to Thor, and a smile curls at her lips as she swipes her tongue over them. </p><p>Thor cowers, his grip tightening on Steve’s hand and his breathing rapidly increasing in pace. Steve glares firmly forward. “JARVIS,” he growls, taking one step back. “Get him out, and get the others up here.” He shoves Thor back into the elevator, and his friend collapses before the doors slide shut. </p><p>The woman – Midnight, he presumes – turns her whole body to face him, turning the spear in her hand and changing her grip on it, eying him a second time. “Hello, little one,” she purrs. “I know who you are.” </p><p>Steve grips his shield and raises it defiantly. “You’re not touching him again.” </p><p>“Is that a threat?” she pushes out a hip, turning the spear in her hand with idle amusement. </p><p>“A promise,” Steve corrects. “I suggest you go back to where you came from before my friends get here.” </p><p>Midnight smirks. “Humans are little threat to us. Thor has already fled, and he is stronger than you – you think you stand a chance where he does not?” </p><p>“I guess we’ll find out,” Steve balances himself. The other won’t be long. </p><p>“Give me what belongs to me, and I will consider sparing you the suffering you already know I can inflict,” she changes her tone to a threatening one, and Steve can see that her muscles are bunching. </p><p>“Thor doesn’t belong to you anymore,” Steve squeezes his shield vengefully. </p><p>“Oh, he belongs very much to me,” Midnight retorts, taking her first steps forward. “I own him with fear. What I have done to him cannot be undone. I own his <em> spirit </em>.” She spits it as she lunges for him with long legs, spinning her spear around. Steve runs to meet her and ducks, sliding across the shiny floor on his hip and pushing his shield into her from underneath as he goes, throwing her into the wall. The impact leaves a dent, but she just shakes drywall off her shoulders and thrusts her spear toward his stomach. </p><p>Steve hops out of his crouch and jumps over the spear, rolling in the air and throwing up his shield as he lands to deflect a second strike. She swings the weapons around and bats his shield aside, but he’s ready for her when she swings back toward his exposed body – he takes the shaft and pulls her toward him, kicking her sharply in the gut. She’s strong enough to take the hit and retain her grip on her weapon, but she does falter, and he shows her no mercy, swinging around his shield and catching her in the head. </p><p>That blow should have knocked out a human, but she is very clearly not human. Midnight huffs through teeth clenched in a threatening smile. “Of all those Thanos rescued, Thor was his favorite. He was my favorite too.” She sweeps her spear around one-handed, aiming for his head and blocking his shield with the other. “He was stronger than the others, more resilient. I could keep going and going and <em> going, </em> and he would simply take it. We’ve taken others more fragile. Attach the collar too tight, and you break the neck, but not with Thor. We leashed him and owned him almost too easily, but he survived it.” </p><p>Steve pulls his shield from her grip as he swings his other arm around for a punch. She smacks his arm aside with her spear, reversing his spin, but he carries through with it and brings his shield back around. He knows what she’s trying to do, but it won’t work. She won’t throw him off. Steve just tightens his jaw and hones his focus further, growing hungrier with each time she opens her mouth to sock her right in it. Midnight is only goading him because she’s trying to gain the upper hand – she's been taken by surprise by his strength. Steve kicks her against the wall, ignoring her words. </p><p>“You can fight for him, but that collar is still just as tight around his neck,” Midnight, pushes off the wall and flicks her spear around, cracking it into his shield and throwing him aside. “He will always be mine.” </p><p>Steve rolls sideways and ends up on his feet, shield raised. Ridiculous as it may be, this suit allows for complete mobility. There is no padding, no extra-reinforced areas, and the fabric is thin enough that he can move entirely unrestricted. Like a dancing monkey. </p><p>He really, <em> really </em> wishes she would just shut up, but he supposes that’s the point. Oh well, she’s only making him angrier, and an angry Captain America – an angry <em> Steve Rogers </em> – never bodes well. An angry Steve Rogers with a cause to fight for, with someone to protect. He’s made of heart and soul and a serum to put that power behind his punches. He’s got his own instincts plus months of training with the Black Widow. He’s got his shield, his star. It was never about the flag. <em> This </em> is why he wears the star, for days like these. For <em> people. </em> </p><p>Besides, America is very much into freedom, isn’t it? This is a worthy cause for the man and mask both. </p><p>All that aside, the very woman who came into his house and raped Thor is standing right in front of him, and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t want to put his fist through her face something terrible. She throws her spear at him, but even with that speed behind it he manages to catch it in his free hand. Despite being huge, Steve’s no less acrobatic than the Black Widow, something she’s been teaching him to exploit. Steve attacks, managing how his body, his shield, and the stolen spear all move together. With all three weapons, he delivers an onslaught. He throws out a kick, slashing with the edge of his shield as he turns and whips around his other leg. She dodges the attacks and ducks under the last, but as she comes up, he’s swinging the spear at her head. It clips her, and though she manages to dance around another kick, he hits her squarely with the spear as he brings the other end around. </p><p>The strike is so strong that her horn cracks. Midnight screams and catches her weapon as it swings for her again. Steve brings up his other hand to yank it free, but she clutches it with both hands too and pulls. So Steve kicks her in the hips, doubling her over and whacking her head into the edge of his shield. He twists the spear back out of her hands and cracks her in the shoulder with his shield. </p><p>Those blows must hurt, because Midnight grunts, but they don’t stop her. Ruling by fear aside, if she’s strong enough to contend with Thor, then she must be very strong indeed. She rolls to her feet and slides out of reach, thoroughly enraged. “You will not be spared any measures,” she growls, all the predatory seduction gone from her demeanor. </p><p>Steve has no more words for her, tightening his grip on both his weapons as he watches her for cues. The longer they draw this out, the sooner his friends get here. Though he’s managing alright on his own, it would be nice to have that back-up, especially with both the tesseract and Thor on the line. </p><p>“You will not be so brave when I’m finished with you,” she threatens, her voice dropping low. </p><p>There are few as fast as a super-soldier, but then again, the only person not from Earth that Steve’s ever fought has been Thor. So far, Midnight is keeping up with him quite well, and he has to work harder than usual to keep up with her, just as he does as she resumes their battle. Steve bends his path and throws the spear into the wall. Tony has high ceilings, which means Steve has enough room to jump and swings forward off the spear, sailing into Midnight with his legs at the perfect height to wrap around her neck. He puts his whole body into the twist, taking her to the ground with an impact that cracks Tony’s nice floor. Steve frees his legs and ends up on top, driving his knee up under her ribs and drawing back his shield. </p><p>He ducks just in time to avoid the spear as it pulls out of the wall in a shower of drywall and sails past him from behind. When he looks up, there’s another man there. Well, alien. And he’s got the spear in-hand, walking calmly down the hallway toward them. </p><p>“You are not the only one with friends,” Midnight bares her teeth at him, grabbing him by the belt and throwing him off of her. </p><p>Steve rolls again, righting himself as quickly as he can so he can face his new enemy and reassess his opponents. </p><p>Midnight nimbly gets to her feet and waits for her companion to meet her, taking her weapon back from him. He clasps his hands behind his back and peers down the hall at Steve. “Is the human giving you trouble?” </p><p>He gets a growl in return. “The plan has changed,” she snaps. “Thor has allies. We must separate him from them.” </p><p>Both of them are on the same page, and Steve doesn’t like what he imagines it reads. He holds tighter onto his shield, and holds his ground. Whatever happens, they’re not getting into that elevator, and they aren’t getting to Thor. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0023"><h2>23. Chapter 23</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>It's fightin' time. This has probably been one of my favorite chapters to write, so I look forward to your thoughts! Thanks as always, and enjoy B)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Thor huddles in the elevator as JARVIS brings him down floor by floor. He knows he should be there at Steve’s side, but he can’t move, can’t breathe. The very sight of Proxima Midnight has sent him to a place he was starting to believe he could leave for good. Before, he’d coped, because he </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> to – there were no other choices. He doesn’t just have to survive anymore, and he doesn’t want to go back to Midnight’s clutches now that he knows he can have Steve instead.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve, and the other Avengers. His friends. His new team. They’ll protect him, though they shouldn’t have to. He shouldn’t need these earthlings to fight his battles. He does though, because he’s not even able to stand up.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“May I suggest deep breaths...?” JARVIS suggests.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor barks a laugh and clutches the hand rails. If only it were that easy... Stark’s computer is right though, so he tries. Steve needs him, and Thor promised to fight. He tries, dragging in a painful breath as deeply as he can. No matter how badly he wants to curl up in a corner and hide in his sweater, he can’t. He has to get up. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Get up!</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Slowly,” JARVIS keeps talking. “Sit down. There is a kitchen on this floor. Perhaps I can start the coffee machine...”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Coffee does make him feel better, but there’s no time, and Thor’s not sure he can walk on his own. His legs are too weak to push under himself. Gritting his teeth, he grips the handrails so hard they dent, fighting for some control over his breathing. He shakes his head and hopes the AI can see him somehow. Stark’s machines are impressive.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>There has to be something he can anchor himself to. An image might be enough. It might </span>
  <em>
    <span>have</span>
  </em>
  <span> to be enough; the others don’t have the time to take care of him. Thor pulls up a bit higher and sets his jaw, wiping his eyes so he can see. He turns his hand and pushes into the rail, wedging his legs under himself and stands, heaving. “The others...” he wheezes, not daring to let go of the railing yet. Not until his legs feel stronger. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Gods above...</span>
  </em>
  <span> He struggles to articulate his question.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>JARVIS interprets, calmly relaying the information. “The city is currently being evacuated. Two unidentified aircrafts have landed in central park. Two hostiles have </span>
  <span>disembarked</span>
  <span>, but I am detecting many more life forces aboard. I cannot count how many.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The other Children...” Thor nods, digging his fingers into his chest. “Wait... only two? Where is the fourth?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A second hostile joined the first in the laboratory and overwhelmed Captain Rogers,” JARVIS informs. “They took the tesseract with them.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor’s eyes widen. “Why did you not tell me! How long have I been in here? Where are they? The others? Is Steve alive?” He staggers for the doors, but they don’t open, and he can barely walk in a straight line.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You have been here for twenty-seven minutes,” JARVIS explains, as if to drive home his point. “Mr. Stark suggested I let you catch your breath before I released you. It appears you have suffered a rather severe panic attack. But in response to your other questions, the others are looking for the Captain while evacuating the city and protecting them from the hostiles. I am scanning all cameras in the city for a sign of Captain Rogers as well. He was taken alive, as a trap for you, I presume. I was privy to their conversations. Would you like me to relay to you what I know?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor stumbles back into the elevator wall and holds onto the railings once more, worrying the metal. He’s been in here, completely incapacitated for almost half an hour, while his friends fight for him, and Steve is in danger. The Children have Steve. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Proxima Midnight</span>
  </em>
  <span> has Steve. “Yes!” he cries. “How long has she had him? Where did she take him?” All he can hope is that she won’t do anything until he’s there to watch, but he won’t bet on it.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I do not know,” JARVIS reiterates. “Captain Rogers was taken from the tower sixteen minutes ago. He did not appear injured by any of the scans I am capable of performing.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I need to go,” Thor storms for the door and pushes his fingers into the seams. If he were a little more coordinated and less shaky, he might be able to force them open.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I will allow you to leave once you have recovered. Your heart rate is severely increased.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Steve needs me!” Thor shouts. “They will... they will do unspeakable things to him if I linger!”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You collapsed at the sight of the female,” JARVIS reasons. “If I allow you to pursue her, you will run straight into her trap. That does not help Captain Rogers, nor yourself.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>For a computer, it’s surprisingly human. Thor grits his teeth and focuses on his breathing for a moment more. What’s an extra couple of minutes on top of 27? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Midnight can do a lot of damage in a couple of minutes...</span>
  </em>
  <span> JARVIS is right though, that if he runs right to her and collapses, she will have both him and Steve, and that is not a situation he wants to put his friends into. Four Avengers versus four Children of </span>
  <span>Thanos</span>
  <span>... The Avengers are powerful, but so are the Children, and Thor would like to give his friends the best odds he can. “Where is SHIELD?” he asks.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Inbound six minutes.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor lets go of the railing and looks at his hands. They’re vibrating, so he clenches them into tight fists. </span>
  <em>
    <span>She doesn’t own you. You’re stronger than her. She tried to break you, but she failed.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Steve told him that so confidently. So far, Steve has kept his word with all his promises, big and small. If Thor can’t trust Steve, then who </span>
  <em>
    <span>can</span>
  </em>
  <span> he trust? He glares at the door and furiously wipes the rest of his tears away. “I will find him,” he promises. “And I will rescue him. I will not allow her to capture me.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They want you to find them,” JARVIS warns. “Be careful. This may be their trap.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m certain it is,” Thor glowers. “But they will fail.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I will continue to search for him,” JARVIS promises, dropping the elevator down the last few floors. “There is spare equipment if you would like.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, thank you,” Thor shakes his head. It will only waste time, and a bullet-proof vest won’t do much good.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve’s suit probably didn’t serve him a huge deal either, but the Captain still put it on. Thor remembers it coming up in conversation with the others, about how horrible it is and that he’s much better off in the black one. He recalls the teasing, the jabs to posters depicting what Steve wore back in the war. The colors, the star, it’s all part of the symbol of Captain America. </span>
  <em>
    <span>The star-marked one.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The elevator slows to a stop. “I am detecting the tesseract’s acute energy signals in the city center, not far from here,” JARVIS says. “The cameras in that sector show a single life form moving away from us. If you run with the sun at one-o'clock, you will likely intercept where he came from.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Where he left Midnight and Steve. “Alert the others,” Thor orders. “Tell them to secure the tesseract. The </span>
  <span>Chitauri</span>
  <span> cannot be brought to Earth.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Understood,” JARVIS agrees. “I am informing Mr. Stark.” The elevator doors slide open. “Good luck.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you,” Thor nods, and runs out of the elevator, through the lobby, and into the sun. Immediately, he sets it to his right. Any traffic present is stalled, and any people not yet evacuating are following police direction out of the city. Thor runs through them unimpeded, keeping his eyes open. He spots Iron Man in the sky to his left, appearing over the buildings and floating in the air as he looks around before darting back down. A dark shape is descending over the city, which he immediately recognizes as the SHIELD </span>
  <span>helicarrier</span>
  <span>.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He can hear the sounds of growling and yelping, </span>
  <span>echoing</span>
  <span> through the deserted streets. The hounds are being set loose. Thor pushes himself to run a bit faster, hoping JARVIS has enough eyes throughout the city to alert the Avengers, and there are enough resources to protect the civilians. It may be too late to negotiate for the lives of his colleagues, much less the safety of Earth, which </span>
  <span>Thanos</span>
  <span> always planned to purge as he has countless planets before it.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>A floating shape above catches his eye, and when he looks up, he spots Ebony Maw on a slab of road, the glowing blue cube in his hand. His back is to Thor, and he’s headed away from a high rise. It looks as if he’s come out the window of the top-most floor. Thor goes straight toward the building.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s a hotel, completely empty by the looks of it, until he gets to the front. Thor jogs around and peers all the way up, immediately spotting the broken window and a glint of gold. With his arms over his head he runs through the front doors and breaks them open with his shoulder. Not bothering with the elevator, he runs right into the stairwell and peers up. It’s built in such a way that he can jump between the flights of steps, grabbing onto the rails as he goes. For his body, it’s faster than the elevator. There’s plenty of space to push off and jump up several floors at a time. In less than a minute, he’s scaled fifty floors.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The hotel is deadly silent. Thor slips out of the stairwell, making use of his intensive stealth training to creep noiselessly in his sneakers. Luckily, this is a luxury building, with soft carpet and no creaking floorboards.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nothing moves, nothing breathes. </span>
  <em>
    <span>They’re waiting for me.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Thor listens with his ear close to each door he passes. There aren’t too many rooms up here, so it doesn’t take long for him to scour the first section of hallway and arrive at a T-junction. He tries left first, then right. These must be the most expensive suites, because the doors are farther apart. One of the doors is open a crack. Bracing himself while keeping his hands at the ready, Thor crouches against the wall and peers through the gap.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>They’re in there, they have to be. Thor listens closely, but he can only hear one heartbeat. It’s accelerated, with short puffs of breath laboring over top. The smell of blood is thick when it finally wafts through the crack and hits him. With a quick look around just in case, Thor hurries in and closes the door how it was. He pads into the suite and crouches behind a sofa to avoid the windows just in case, but so </span>
  <span>far</span>
  <span> the only view is of the </span>
  <span>helicarrier</span>
  <span> descending from the clouds while jets fly out to join Tony in the sky. There is no sign of Ebony Maw, the portal, the Q-ships, or the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sanctuary II</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Warily, Thor walks around the bar and out of the lounge. He ignores the huge bathroom decorated with shimmering light fixtures and follows the scent of blood into the master bedroom.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The second Thor nudges the door open and creeps in, a </span>
  <span>cool draft brushes</span>
  <span> under his sweater. Straight ahead is a huge bed covered in plush pillows and thick sheets. The walls are a dusty pink color, and the room is decorated with golds and whites. On the other side of the bed are more of those floor-to-ceiling windows, the curtains ripped away and the glass broken inward. Protruding vertically from the floor between the bed and the window is the shaft of Midnight’s spear, the head pointed upward. Which means the prongs are pointing down, into the floor. Thor rushes around the bed, pushing it back by the corner as he does.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve is prone on his back, the spear protruding from his body and into the floor. One hand is pinned up by his head with one of Midnight’s blades. His eyes are closed and his head is lolled to the side, but he jolts awake and gasps as Thor kneels beside him, turning his head. “N-no...” he whispers, blood bubbling on his lips. “Go. She’s... she’s here... S’trap.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know,” Thor pulls the blade out of Steve’s hand and pushes it into the soldier’s chest, above the prong that’s slid between his ribs. Gods, it’s high... The other two are in the soft flesh of his belly, but they’ve missed his spine. The second they’re pulled out, that’s going to bleed. Steve is already bleeding into his chest, impeding his breathing. He’s in pain, shivering and whiter than the stripes of his uniform. Whiter than they used to be, anyway, because most of the midsection is completely red. They need help, but neither of them </span>
  <span>is</span>
  <span> wearing an earpiece, or have a phone on them. They have no way of contacting the others. Thor scoops his hand under Steve’s head and holds him up as high as possible without disturbing the spear, rubbing into the soldier’s mussed hair as he drags his eyes from the bloody punctures to the rest of the room. Steve is his bait.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Go...” Steve moans, his head limp in Thor’s grip. His gloves are gone, but his hands are so slick with blood they’re almost as red. He reaches out with them, pawing for Thor’s sweater. “Go... please...”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Remember when I said you talk too much?” Thor can’t help but smile fondly, cradling Steve’s head and shoulders in his arm and stilling the soldier’s wandering his hands with the other. “Shh, alright? I will get you to safety.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not without you...” Steve’s eyes are severely glazed with the trauma his body has been recently dealt, but the Captain is unwavering in his conviction.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Together,” Thor reassures. “I will not let your fight be for nothing, nor will I allow her to harm you further. Is she here?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve nods. “Went out... She said... was </span>
  <span>commin</span>
  <span>’. For you. Tried...” He squeezes his eyes closed and clenches handfuls of his uniform, opening his mouth in a soundless cry. Steve’s one of the toughest, most stoic warriors Thor’s ever met, so this must hurt a lot. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Of course</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> it does...</span>
  </em>
  <span> What to do, though? That spear has to come out.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor squeezes Steve’s hands, fighting not to allow his focus to tunnel lest he be taken by surprise. “I know you did,” he nods. “You protected me.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Won’t let her...” Steve starts to move, pulling in his legs as if to dig in his heels and sit, but his boots slip on the carpet and he doesn’t have the strength to push them in. That doesn’t stop him from trying, though. “Won’t let... she can’t...”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I won’t let her either,” Thor promises, hastily stilling his friend. “No, Steve. Stop. You’ll hurt yourself.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Gotta...” Steve fights like the noble, stubborn protector that he is. The silver star in his chest is somehow still clean and shiny as ever.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nothing,” Thor shakes his head. “You must do nothing. It is long past my turn to protect you.” He drags a loving hand across Steve’s forehead and strokes back his forelock. “You have fought bravely for me.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>He will die for me if I do not bring him to safety...</span>
  </em>
  <span> Right now, the blood isn’t coming too quickly, but in the short time between Midnight taking Steve and Thor arriving here, Steve’s already bled a lot, and his lung is collapsing, each breath whistling air around the spear and into his chest cavity, pressing it down and down. But if that spear comes out... Wherever Midnight is, he doesn’t want to risk running into her while carrying Steve to the bottom floor. They’ll have to take the elevator, which isn’t as safe...</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He needs to start making decisions, and acting on them. “Where is your shield?” Thor does another sweep of the room, but he doesn’t see it.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve rolls his head in Thor’s arm and look out the shattered window, his hair fluttering in the breeze. “Down there...” he rasps. “Somewhere.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Did she touch you?” Thor looks own, but he can already see that Steve’s uniform is still in place. His pants are undisturbed, and his belt is buckled just as it was.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“N-no,” Steve shivers. “No.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s a small relief, though it doesn’t dampen his anger. Midnight still did this. Midnight and Ebony Maw. They spread Steve out like live bait, all for Thor. He tenses his jaw and debates his options. Midnight will soon be back for her spear, wherever she is. “Do you know where she went?” he asks, hoping to keep Steve awake at the very least. There’s little chance of the soldier being able to defend himself, but at the very least it would be a reassurance. Thor will protect him anyway.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ow...” Steve moans, dragging his head back around. He gives it a shake for no.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor gives him a squeeze and nods as he carefully lays Steve back on the ground and gets up. “I know,” he looks around the room, through the door, then out the window. He might be able to get someone’s attention if he waves. Then again, if he gets Ebony Maw’s attention, his only hope will be that an ally can get here faster. His best bet is to carry Steve into the elevator while he has the chance and get into the street, and to his friends.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Without a shred of hesitation, he walks to the bed and throws off the duvets, yanking free a sheet from underneath. He hooks his foot under the knife and kicks it neatly into his hand, slicing the sheet into wide strips. Already, he’s staining the white fabric with Steve’s blood. He slices the last strip in half and folds the pieces, laying everything on the floor and kneeling at Steve’s side where he can watch the door. “Steve, I’m going to pull this out, alright? You must be quiet, if you can.” He cuts a piece off another strip and rolls it, holding it up. Understanding almost instantly, Steve opens his mouth and bites down on the fabric. Thor presses a quick kiss into Steve’s forehead, then he steels himself and rolls up his sleeves, wrapping his hands around the shaft of the spear. Already he can feel that it’s pushed deep into the floor. Deep enough to be standing so tall and straight without swaying. Deep enough that Steve wasn’t able to yank it free on his own with just one hand. It’ll need a hard pull. Thor stares at the well of blood around each prong, knowing it’s going to be bad when the only thing plugging those holes is the spear itself.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve shoves his arm under himself gesturing with his other hand. His eyes are wide with urgency, and he’s struggling to spit out the gag so he can wheeze out a warning. Thor turns his head.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hello, little one,” Midnight smiles at him, another blade in her hand. Thor’s legs turn to pudding, forcing him to kneel after he hops over Steve to protect him. She sways into the room and runs her fingers along the bed. “I did not expect you so soon. I was just about to send a message to your little friends to turn you in, but it seems you’ve come to do it yourself. Come with me, and I will allow his people to take him away.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thor...” Steve moans, his head thumping onto the floor. His breathing sounds unbearably grating.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor swallows, forcing himself to look right into her wanting eyes as she licks her lips. She raises her hand, and when he flicks his gaze to it, she’s holding a compressed injector in her long fingers. Tremors work their way down his spine and spread out through his body, and to top it all off, she grins.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>A hand grabs his sweater from behind, immediately wetting it with blood. Steve’s hand slips down and rests on his ankle, soaking his sock and the hem of his jeans. “Not... not ruined...”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Midnight playfully flips the knife in her other hand. “This bed... I will take him on it, and you will watch, helpless. All you can hope is that his wounds will kill him swiftly and free him, but you will not be so lucky. The second he breathes his last, you will be next, and there will be no release for you. I have kept you to myself all this time, but the others are curious.” She curls her lip in threat, but her eyes are peering off into her own fantasies. She licks her lips again, taking more time over it.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve growls, audibly struggling to move despite the pain it causes him. Such a small act draws whatever breath he’s managed to suck in out of his lungs, and he’s gasping. “Thor...”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>His heart and head trust Steve, but his body knows Midnight. It’s conspiring against him, threatening to drop him, but he fights it. He fights the compulsion to collapse and hyperventilate, to succumb to the fear of a vivid image Proxima Midnight has helped him paint. If he goes down, Steve dies, and that’s that. The body can be trained easier than the mind or the heart. It can be swayed. It already knows how to fight, and when the syringe swings at him, he cuts up with his hand to block, her wrist bouncing off of his and the needle coming nowhere near his skin. “No more,” he growls.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>She seems surprised, but it doesn’t last. Her smile curls maliciously and her eyes narrow with increased desire. “You know I love a man who puts up a fight,” she hisses. “But, have it your way. You only prolong his suffering.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>But I will end my own.</span>
  </em>
  <span> She’s had power over him for far too long. Thor stands up, and Steve’s hand falls off his ankle, like a ferryman freeing the rope tying his boat to the peer and pushing into open water. Like an apprentice </span>
  <span>undertaking</span>
  <span> his trade without supervision for the first time, he holds his ground and readies himself. “You will not take me again,” he says as confidently as he can muster, and it comes out far more smoothly than he expected it to. “And you will not take him.” It feels as good as it sounds, which is fortunate because words alone won’t save him.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>His body will, driven by his heart and his head, those parts of him that know he can no longer be a Child of Thanos, was never meant to become this. Those parts that feel a deep craving for something better, something softer, something that forces him to stand up and fight for it harder than he ever has. This time, he’s armed with Steve’s words, with Steve’s promise. He deflects her knife by parrying his wrist against hers, unzipping his sweater in one swift motion and throwing it off one arm. He brings it up to block another stab with the needle, and shakes the sweater off his other arm, whipping the garment around her neck and holding on to the other sleeve. The sweater wraps around her neck and he yanks her forward, throwing her into the wall with a forceful spin. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Midnight hits with her shoulders and drops into a crouch as he runs toward her, before he can swipe the sweater sleeves back into his hand. While she shakes the garment off her shoulders, Thor slides off his shoe with a neat shuffle, flinging it off his foot and hopping onto his socked foot so he can kick it out of its fall with the other. His sneaker hits her in the face, and she starts to stand, the knife and syringe still clenched in either hand. She quickly recovers, swinging both at him, but Thor is already carrying through his turn and kicking her in her already-cracked horn with his socked heel.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The horn snaps off, and Midnight starts to scream as blue blood dribbles out, but Thor cuts her off – he stops his turn and whips in his leg, snapping it back out and kicking her in the face. She flies back into the dent she already made, her torso going right through. As she sits up in a crumble of drywall, blood smeared all over her face, Thor can’t help but falter, because he doesn’t remember being this strong. He doesn’t remember having the upper hand against her, </span>
  <em>
    <span>ever.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>She’s not that strong. Not compared to him. She’s a skilled fighter, but this time, he’s not afraid of her, not even as she growls through bloody teeth gritted in rage and picks up her fallen weapons. Midnight brandishes the syringe and shakes off white dust, splattering her blood on the walls and the floor. “Does your pretty friend know what you are?” her voice bubbles, blood dribbling down her nose and dripping off her chin. “Does he know how pathetic you are? Does he know how easily we claimed you? You fell at Thanos’ feet within the day, and you told him everything about your sad life without him hardly needing to prompt you. You were broken before we had to lay our hands on you.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve pants faster behind him, as if gathering some words to speak, but Thor doesn’t give his friend the chance. “Your fun is over.” He tenses his body under the snug t-shirt he’s wearing, pushing his other sneaker off with threatening deliberation.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Midnight yells like a strangled parrot and attacks, sweeping an upward stab with her syringe. Thor toes his shoe at her, swinging his leg up and over while she avoids another sneaker to the face, stomping down on her wrist and forcing her to release the device. The blow cracks her arm and pulls her down by the shoulder, but she makes use of the momentum and stabs with added force at his arm. Thor grabs her by the wrist and twists, shoving the blade into her own shoulder all the way to the hilt. She lets go of her weapon and grabs his shirt with both hands, taking greedy handfuls of muscle and snapping her teeth hungrily in his face before dipping her head to gouge his face with her remaining horn. Thor turns his head aside and grabs her by both wrists, ripping her hands off his shirt and twisting them away from her body. He kicks one leg from under her with a snap of bone, and hooks the other from behind. As she falls back, he lets go of her wrists and punches his fist into her chest. The bone cracks, but he doesn’t give her a chance to react, snatching her horn and yanking her over his head. He throws her down with a yell, the horn snaps off, and she goes flying into the opposite wall, going straight through that one too.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor tosses away her horn and paces over, grabbing her by the front of her uniform and pulling her out of the rubble. He holds her upright, and she stares him in the eyes with a clear and menacing glare despite drawing such rattling breaths with her crushed chest. Her whole face is streaked with blood, and her yellow eyes shine through. She smiles madly, as if she still thinks she can win this somehow, or maybe she’s snapped. “I destroyed you so perfectly,” she goads. “I </span>
  <em>
    <span>made</span>
  </em>
  <span> you.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And I have been unmade,” Thor replies, pulling the knife from her shoulder with a spurt of blood.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You will always fear me,” she gurgles.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Perhaps,” Thor drags her toward the window, picking his way neatly around the glass. He lets go and wraps his arm around her back instead. Her eyes fly wide and she opens his mouth, but she’s too late to stop him from burying the knife in her chest. “But only in my dreams.” He throws her out the window.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>She falls, and he doesn’t stay to watch her hit the ground, turning away from the window and back to Steve. To his relief, the soldier is still breathing, and surprisingly present when he stares at Thor with awe and pride. “’sider me avenged,” he rasps. “Wow.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Felt good,” Thor admits, pulling a pillow off the bed and sliding it under Steve’s head. “Hold still, alright?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Did good,” Steve smiles. “Real good...” he pulls his hands off his chest, and in them he’s gripping the syringe Midnight dropped. He offers it up as Thor gets to his knee beside him.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor takes the device in his hand and squeezes until it crumbles under his strength. The fluid oozes between his fingers. Steve watches, his breaths so shallow he’s starting to go blue. Thor throws the destroyed injector away and wipes his hand on his jeans, reassessing the situation. At this rate, Steve’s lung is going to completely collapse before they get to help. He looks down at Steve’s white face, into his reverent eyes. “Do you trust me?” he asks, scooping up the other knife. “I’m not a doctor, but I can ease your breathing.” </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve nods without hesitating. His cough is ruptured with a groan, and Thor stills him. He cuts Steve’s suit and undershirt up the side, avoiding the spear, and pulls the fabric open to expose Steve’s ribs. This is going to hurt, but Steve knows that. He knows what Thor is about to do by the look in his eyes and the way he claws at the carpet in preparation. Thor squeezes the closer hand before going in.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>By no means is it easy to cut into Steve’s chest, but he only needs to make a small puncture before the desired effect can take place. Steve cries out as the blade goes in, but there’s an almost immediate hiss of air and he can suddenly breathe a lot better. Not great, because that prong is still in his lung, but at least his chest cavity is no longer crushing it down.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks,” Steve heaves, gulping as much air as he can.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Catch your breath,” Thor nods, unable to stop himself from stroking Steve’s hair for a moment or two before taking to the soldier’s suit with the knife again. He cuts around the prongs as carefully as he can and opens Steve’s suit away from the weapon. The prongs glow brightly. Thor hopes he won’t cause too much damage pulling them out, and that Steve’s serum will protect him. It seems to be protecting him from slipping too far into shock, though the soldier is clearly suffering quite badly, shaking and sweating and uncoordinated. Not to mention barely able to draw sufficient breaths. Opening up the air cavity helped, but it’s only a temporary fix, and it doesn’t do a thing to help the blood loss. Things certainly aren’t getting better to leave them as they are, either, which means he has to be as fast as possible. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor’s never felt so calm and sure of himself, and for now the stress of the reality before him hasn’t set in. “You’ll be alright,” he promises with a reassuring smile, exchanging the knife for the gag and pushing it back into Steve’s mouth. “Eyes on me.” Steve nods stoically and obeys, visibly preparing himself. Thor stands up and wraps his hand around the shaft. It submits to him with one swift yank, pulling out of the floor and out of Steve with a wet sound and muffled cry from the soldier. Thor drives it into the ground by the window with the light shining out, hoping an ally might see it and provide aerial transport.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He runs back and holds Steve in his arm, reaching for the supplies he was preparing before Midnight interrupted them and pressing the first folded piece of cloth into Steve’s belly. Blood is enthusiastically gushing out like it’s a race. “Hold this,” he orders, taking Steve’s hands and pushing them into the compress. Steve has already spat out the gag and is panting as he obeys, his white face slowly becoming grey. But he pushes and grits his teeth, still bravely holding on while Thor juggles his body and applies the other compress to his back.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <span>Whattabout</span>
  <span> the other... the other Children?” Steve rasps.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I will deal with them when they arrive,” Thor promises darkly, tying the sliced strips of sheet around Steve’s body. “None are as skilled in battle as Midnight.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The guy... the guy with... with the weird face,” Steve frowns, lifting his hand so Thor can wrap the sheet. “He’s got... got powers.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He is troublesome,” Thor agrees. “I will deal with him if he threatens us. I did not think I could overwhelm Midnight before today.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve smiles. “Kicked her... kicked her ass,” he agrees, patting Thor’s hand proudly.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I could not have defeated her without you,” Thor ties the last knot and bends down, stroking Steve’s glistening forehead and kissing his cheek. “You severed her hold on me.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You made the move,” Steve pokes him weakly in the chest. “Your choices.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I cannot take all the credit,” Thor shakes his head fondly, dragging over his sweater and fixing the sleeves before wrapping it around Steve’s shoulders. He pulls Steve’s arm around his neck and guides the other to press on the wad of sheets on his belly and lower ribs. Little dots of blood are already blossoming through the white, and when Thor wraps an arm around Steve’s back and slowly lifts the soldier to his feet, he sways dangerously. Steve starts to take a step, but Thor holds tightly on and turns, scooping his other arm under the Captain’s knees and lifting him easily off the floor.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Five... five-star... service,” Steve breathes out a relieved sigh, dropping his head into Thor’s shoulder.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor starts to turn away from the window. “This is not a service I offer to just anyone, you know. Only the most distinguished guests.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“V-I-P,” Steve’s chuckle has no strength.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” Thor hopes he heard that right, that Steve isn’t losing his mind. He starts to walk to the bedroom door.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Very Important Person,” Steve clarifies. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Very</span>
  </em>
  <span> Important.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor smiles in agreement, ready to nudge the door open with his foot. When he hears a growl and a thud, he turns swiftly to see who it is. The Hulk has </span>
  <span>arrived</span>
  <span>, reaching into the room with a meaty paw and ripping Midnight’s spear out of the floor, throwing it disdainfully out the window. His eyes roam from Thor’s face down to Steve in his arms, and a growl rises in his throat. “Hulk,” Thor steps cautiously over. “He needs help-”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The green beast reaches out, not exactly inviting, but certainly commanding. He snorts. “Help Cap,” he snaps, and Thor’s not sure if it’s a promise or a command, but he nods and walks closer, letting the monster gather him in one huge arm. They’re off, Thor clutching Steve tightly while the Hulk holds him and jumps away from the window to the adjacent building, sliding down the side in a shower of bricks. Resisting the urge to peer to the ground in search of Midnight’s body, he focuses instead on Steve, trusting the beast to get them both down safely. The Hulk carries them all the way down in a few quick seconds, leaping between buildings until it’s safe enough to jump the rest of the way to the ground. The monster lands in a shower of concrete, but his indestructible body takes all the force without a bother, and he lets his cargo down.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor steps out of Hulk’s arm and adjusts his grip on Steve. “Thank you.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The beast looks him in the eyes, and they’re just as strikingly human as before. He snorts and looks at Steve again, the lines of rage </span>
  <span>permanently</span>
  <span> etched into his face deepening. At the sound of growling in the nearby streets, they both look up.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The hounds,” Thor looks back at Hulk, and no more needs to be said – Hulk is more than game. He shows teeth in a pleased grin and tears off with an echoing roar as he </span>
  <span>disappears</span>
  <span>. Thor looks back at Steve as he starts to jog in the direction he came. If he can get Steve to the perimeter, he can get help. JARVIS is watching any cameras in the city, right...? Maybe JARVIS has already spotted them and can direct help their way. Steve’s shaking more forcefully, struggling to uphold the pressure on his wound. The bloody stains have grown exponentially. “Steve,” he coaxes, looking back up at where he’s going.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Here,” Steve groans. “</span>
  <span>Regrettably</span>
  <span>...”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do not say that,” Thor gently chastises.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry... meant it’d be... be </span>
  <span>kinda</span>
  <span> nice to... to pass out.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know,” Thor </span>
  <span>sympathizes</span>
  <span>. “Soon. You can soon, I promise. Just a little longer, alright?”</span>
  
</p>
<p><span>“</span><span>S’pose</span> <span>s’no</span><span>... no getting' out of a... a </span><span>hosp’tal</span><span> this time...”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>“I may not be a doctor, but I am certain I cannot fix you with tape and stitches,” Thor agrees. “But I will be there. As </span>
  <span>will</span>
  <span> your other friends. Soon this will be behind us.” He looks around as he jogs, down each street and up into the sky. The last thing they need is a drop-in from Ebony Maw or the other Children. Thor feels like he could take on the world, and he would for Steve, but right now they can’t spare any delays.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Won’t die,” Steve murmurs. “Can’t die... from this.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I will hold you to that,” Thor nods, glancing down into Steve’s hazy blue eyes. Gods, he’s pale... And the bandages that should be white are soaked red. He runs a little faster, unbothered by the asphalt on his socked feet.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Up ahead, there’s a shimmer of golden light reflecting off the buildings down one street. Thor listens closely and prepares himself to protect Steve at all costs, but it’s not the enemy that comes running around that corner – it's Loki, and a heard of Asgardian soldiers on his tail. Immediately, Loki spots them and runs, wearing his horned gold helmet and </span>
  <span>wielding</span>
  <span> Odin’s staff. “Thor!”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Loki!” Thor meets him halfway and slows. “Loki, what are you doing here?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I came as soon as Heimdall alerted me the enemy had arrived,” his brother looks him up and down, staring only for a moment at the bloody mess of Steve’s middle. “Are you alright?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I am,” Thor agrees. “He is not. I must take him to safety.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hi,” Steve waves tiredly.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Captain,” Loki nods. “Thor, your old companions have loosed a small army of truly disgusting creatures through the streets.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And there will be more if the portal is opened,” Thor looks up into the sky, hoping for a glimpse of the tesseract’s distinct blue glow, or Ebony Maw’s distinctly repulsive face. “I must ask a favor of you.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Anything,” Loki agrees immediately.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Find the tesseract,” Thor stares firmly at his brother. “Find it, and destroy the portal. Do not allow the </span>
  <span>Chitauri</span>
  <span> to enter Earth.” The other three Children, plus the hounds are plenty for the Avengers-minus-one, plus the </span>
  <span>Allfather</span>
  <span> and </span>
  <span>Asgard’s</span>
  <span> finest warriors. There is no denying that Thor is pleased to see his brother. The soldiers are hanging respectfully back, but he can tell they’re inspecting him. He holds his head high.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I will do that,” Loki agrees with a nod. “The perimeter is not far. If you turn left as the next intersection, then another left, you should reach it. The humans have set up a barricade. I will let the other Avengers know where you are when I run into them.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor nods trustingly back, and starts to run again. He runs past soldiers he used to train and fight with, following Loki’s direction. Steve’s arm tightens around his neck, the soldier’s other hand grabbing a handful of </span>
  <span>t-shirt</span>
  <span>. When Thor glances down, his friend’s white-washed features are clenched with pain. “Breathe through it, Steve,” he urges, wishing he could just stop running to provide the comfort Steve needs right now. These are the worst circumstances imaginable for such a thing. At least there isn’t any traffic in their way.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Growling approaches from the right. Thor runs a little faster, risking a glance as he passes through an intersection. A hoard of </span>
  <span>Thanos</span>
  <span>’ hounds is rushing to meet them. All Thor has to do is get Steve to safety, then he can turn around and fight. The hounds are fast, but he’s faster, even burdened. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Steve is no burden. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He could carry his friend forever. He won’t let the weight slow him down or compromise his footing. Thor works off his socks as he runs, so that when he arrives at some parked cars abandoned in his way, he can run up them without slipping. Thor hops back down and keeps running. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Up ahead, far in the distance, he can see the barricade, humans armed with guns holding the line. Thor furrows his brow and runs as fast as he’s capable with six feet of soldier in his arms, but when a second pack of hounds appear from the street another </span>
  <span>block</span>
  <span> down, he’s forced to slide to a stop. Even the soft skin on the bottoms of his feet is quite tough, but it tears on the cement. It’s nothing compared to what Thor has endured, so he hardly notices, concerned only for Steve’s safety. In the middle of the intersection, he looks around. The first pack is closing in from behind, while the second boxes him in from the front. Thor turns to his right, but a third pack is approaching from there, too, and the same from the left when he desperately turns that way.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>They’re trapped. Thor adjusts his grip on Steve, and looks around. He can see the distant green shape of the Hulk chasing one pack, throwing up cars as he charges after his prey. He turns again and spots the golden glint of the sun bouncing off Asgardian armor and the tip of Loki’s spear. Above, he spots Iron Man’s blue reactor against the backdrop of a swarm of </span>
  <span>quinjets</span>
  <span> hot on Tony’s tail, the SHIELD helicarrier behind that, and a darkening sky beyond. None of his friends are going to get there in time. Thor braces himself, searching for a way out, another option, a weapon at the very least, or somewhere to put Steve where he’ll be easier to protect. Steve is even shifting in his arms, trying to pull his legs out of Thor’s grip as if to stand up, breathing forcefully through clenched teeth. Thor holds on, and Steve’s struggling is futile against his superior strength. Alone, Thor is confident he could defend himself against this many animals, at least until back-up arrived, but with Steve to guard, who is completely unable to protect himself in any way? Does he set Steve on the ground and fight off what he can, and hope that nothing gets to him? It’s difficult to protect a body by standing over it, while attacks pile on from all sides. Steve can’t risk any more wounds on top of what he’s already fighting. He’s lost so much blood in such a short space of time, that anything else might be too much. Thor doesn’t know what the serum can handle, and he isn’t about to take a risk like that.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He only has one option, and that’s to get to his knee and wrap himself around Steve as well as he can, holding on with one arm and preparing to fight off attacks from the front while he shields with his back. </span>
  <span>So</span>
  <span> he does just that, crouching in the road under the street lights and holding Steve against his chest. All he can hear is the snarling and snapping of hungry, murderous monsters, but he’s not scared. They’ll rip him to shreds, but his body can take it until help arrives. He survived their onslaught once before, and he can do it again. Unwavering, he hugs Steve and raises his other hand.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>From all directions, the beasts fill the intersection, scrambling over each other for the kill, for a taste of the blood they can all smell. And Thor raises his hand higher. The sky rumbles, and those dark clouds move a lot faster than they should. The ground shakes.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The beasts get close enough that he feels their hot breath on his back. Something whistles in the air toward his head, but as he makes a fist to punch the threat away, his palm closes around the leather handle of an old but familiar friend, and the sky splits with bright blue light.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>At </span>
  <span>first</span>
  <span> he thinks the portal is opening right over his head, but that’s not the tesseract – that's lightning, and it erupts from the dense and vengeful clouds above, striking the two of them huddled on the concrete. When the air rushes back with a clap of thunder, it clears the intersection and shatters the windows of all the nearby buildings. Thor straightens and immediately looks down at Steve in his arms to make sure he’s alright; sure enough, Steve is still clasped in his arm, panting like he’s run a super-soldier marathon and staring with wide, sober eyes. He reaches up to run his hand down Thor’s shoulder to his chest, a trickle of blood gathering in the corner of his open mouth. Where he should feel fingers through the fabric of his t-shirt, he doesn’t.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s not wearing his t-shirt anymore, nor are his bare feet scraping on rough pavement. It’s been a very long time since he donned any armor, and </span>
  <span>certainly</span>
  <span> not Asgardian armor. This isn’t the armor he left behind in his closet on the Sanctuary a hundred years ago, either. Similar, but not the same. Still with similar grooves and fasteners, but darker. There’s no silver, no warm brown leathers. It’s almost entirely black. He likes it. A flutter of red catches his eye, and he spots a thick scarlet cape flowing off his shoulders and puddling on the ground around his feet. Mjolnir is rested comfortably in his hand, like he never </span>
  <span>abandoned</span>
  <span> it.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor sets it down with metallic thump and picks Steve back up, turning to watch as his friends plow through the hounds to fill the intersection and stand at his side. Clint and Natasha are there too, rushing out of one of the jets that lands to drop them off.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Could you always do that?” Tony lands in a run, jogging over to them as he pulls off his helmet. He’s agape, looking over at Loki incredulously. “Could he always do that?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Steve needs a hospital,” Thor looks pleadingly at his friend. “He’s bleeding. I tried to slow it, but it has made little difference.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Get him on the jet,” Natasha arrives with Clint at her side, reaching out to touch the soldier’s face. “Steve... What happened?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Proxima Midnight,” Thor meets her gaze with his own dark one. “I dealt with her.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come on,” Natasha gestures. “We’ll get him to a hospital.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hang in </span>
  <span>there</span>
  <span> pal,” Tony peers over Thor’s shoulder at his friend. That awed gaze in Steve’s eyes is gone, and he’s visibly slipping away, his arm </span>
  <span>more limp</span>
  <span> around Thor’s neck than it was mere minutes ago. The friends exchange worried glances, but Thor strides with confidence toward the jet, walking up the ramp as his cape flows out behind him. There are plenty more enemies to deal with yet.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Here,” Clint rushes in past him and pulls out a stretcher, clamping it to the floor. The pilot fires up the engines.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Too bad we can’t have Bruce and the Hulk at the same time,” Tony laments as he follows them in, worrying his helmet in his gauntleted fingers while the others do what they can and he tries to stay out of the way. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor sets Steve down and rests a hand over his forehead. “I will be back before you know it,” he whispers, stroking his hand back and kissing the soldier’s damp, furrowed brow.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Clint arrives at his side with an armful of blankets, and Natasha with an IV kit and some bags of fluid. “We’ll take him to the hospital,” she promises. “We’ll take care of him for you until you get back.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Keep me updated,” Tony taps his helmet, and Clint nods, tapping his earpiece in response. Natasha nods too, taking Steve’s hand in hers.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor starts to move away, but Steve grabs for him with his other hand. Thor squeezes it and presses it over his belly. “I won’t be long,” he promises. “Rest.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He has to go, even though he doesn’t want to. There’s business to take care of, and the faster he deals with it, the faster he can be at Steve’s bedside. He draws away, and the spies move in, spreading blankets over his friend and doing what they can until they get to the hospital. Thor turns around reluctantly, but the second his eyes tear away from Steve, he hardens. Tony takes one last look back before following, putting his helmet back on.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor walks into the thunder storm, under the dome of black clouds crackling high above, and strides back to his hammer. As the jet takes off behind him, he holds out his hand. Without a falter, Mjolnir leaps into it, and the thunder welcomes him. He looks around at his remaining allies, as the Hulk and Loki and the Asgardian soldiers holding back the hoard of hounds. He looks further, and he can see the floating shape of Ebony Maw outlined by the glow of the tesseract still in his hand. Thor glowers.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Let’s go get that son of a bitch,” Tony looks over and gives a nod, holding out his hand to offer a lift.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor looks at it, then turns away, thrusting Mjolnir at the clouds, which swirl vengefully above and pull lightning from the hammer only to spit it down on the floating figure farther away. Ebony Maw drops from the sky, and drops the tesseract as he does. Thor releases the handle and catches Mjolnir by the strap, flicking his wrist and spinning his hammer until it’s a blur. “Retrieve the tesseract,” he orders, and throws Mjolnir upwards. With a familiar rush of wind, it yanks him off the ground and into the sky. Tony blasts off and flies between the buildings below, headed straight for the cube and over the swarm of hounds still trying to overcome the Hulk and Loki’s army.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor spots Ebony Maw tumbling and lands on top of a building in a run, sprinting across the top as he spins his hammer. He jumps off the edge and flies straight toward him at a new angle. As Ebony Maw tumbles, he catches a glimpse of Thor headed straight for him, and his eyes momentarily widen with surprise before the look is usurped by his usual calm and self-righteous expression. A slab of cement flies under Thor and Ebony grabs the edge. It hooks him out of the air before Thor can catch up, and he weaves away through the buildings. Thor lands again to change course and flies after him in close pursuit. The sky is black and spitting with power he had long forgotten, but it’s return is eagerly welcomed. Thor slides across the top of a high-rise and jumps to the next, running with his eyes on Ebony Maw’s burned and blistered body fleeing to the Q-ships parked just off in the distance, nestled in the trees of the park where he and Steve were taking their morning runs. Thor cuts a sharp turn and leaps onto another building, easily clearing the six-lane gap between them. He rolls his shoulders and grips Mjolnir, focusing closely on Ebony Maw’s form swerving between the buildings just below. Thor summons his power, and the black clouds answer, striking down with unbridled fury. He yells, and the lightning roars, shattering windows and exploding lamp posts with showers of sparks. Each strike scorches the ground, but Ebony Maw manages to weave his way through the attacks.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Something flies at him from behind, but Thor senses it in time to shoot back into the sky before it can hit him. A chunk of broken road breaks off the edge of the rooftop and falls to the street below. Mjolnir is no fighter jet, but Thor knows how to fly it; he drops out of the air several feet to allow a stream of debris to fly over his head before swinging Mjolnir forward and resuming his previous altitude as the following attack pelts the side of the building he flies over. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Landing and running again, Thor hurls Mjolnir, and it takes a chunk off the piece Ebony Maw is riding, crumbling it from under his feet. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I must improve my aim.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Thor pushes off the ledge and tackles Ebony Maw straight out of the air, wrapping his far more considerable bulk around the scrawnier alien. They smash through some windows and roll, but Thor doesn’t give any time to recover, grabbing the other man by the collar of his uniform and jumping right back out the window. He snatches Mjolnir by the handle as it flies by and soars up and up, finally letting go and stomping his enemy toward the earth. With a yell, the sky spears Ebony Maw the rest of the way with a thick bolt of lightning, echoing its master’s vengeance with a roar of its own. Thor drops out of the sky and lands beside the body, staring down at the burnt and broken shape sprawled amidst shattered asphalt. It’s almost completely unrecognizable.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Satisfied, he snorts and shoots back toward the clouds. </span>
  <em>
    <span>His</span>
  </em>
  <span> clouds. Thor looks around and spots the intersection where he left the others to fight the remaining hounds. There are so many, but the Hulk and the Asgardians are holding them off. Thor flies over the buildings and swings his heels toward the ground, landing in the middle of the chaos with another ground-shattering impact and a crackle of lightning that follows close behind. It strikes from the sky in rapid succession, sending handfuls of hounds flying. The Hulk runs one way, Loki and the soldiers another, and Thor a third. With the beasts split up and thinned, it doesn’t take much to wipe out the rest of them.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor hurls Mjolnir into his cluster, toppling them and running into the pack to finish off the survivors. They recognize him, drooling for blood they’ve tasted before. Any orders to spare Thor have been rescinded, but that’s works perfectly fine for Thor. He calls Mjolnir back to him and takes down a few more from behind. The rest swarm him, and he’s more than happy to swing his hammer and destroy them. Out in broad daylight, Thor at full strength and armed, they simply aren’t a match for him. They aren’t a match for the God of Thunder.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>When he strides back into the middle of the intersection to meet the others, they aren’t far behind. Tony is soon to follow, descending into their midst before they can regroup. He has the tesseract in one hand, and the completed portal device in the other. “What do you say we blow this thing up?” he suggests, dropping it to the cement.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hulk grins and smacks his fist into his palm, eagerly pouncing on the contraption and ripping it in half with a triumphant roar. He steps back and Tony swoops in to collect the iridium core that’s fallen out. As soon as his friends are out of the way, Thor thrusts up Mjolnir and steps forward, calling forth a thick pillar of lightning to strike the remains of the device. In a shower of sparks, it twists and breaks apart into a heap of useless metal. Hulk stares at the shouldering heap and looks over, and Thor shrugs.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well then,” Tony peers around at all of them. “What’s next?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There are two children remaining,” Thor explains, tightening his grip on Mjolnir. Hulk snorts with anticipation, curling his fist against the cement. “And Thanos, but I doubt he will come. Not today, at least.” Or maybe he will. During the hundred years Thor served him, he has never witnessed an event like today before, a rebellion of one of the Children.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thor,” Loki is pointing up to the sky. Thor turns to spot both Q-ships rising above the city. Thunder rumbles all across the city before he even starts to spin Mjolnir.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thor,” Tony says, but his call is more worried. His faceplate flips up. “It’s Steve. He needs you. Nat says he’s in surgery, and-”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Without a second glance, Thor turns away from the ships. “Take me,” he orders.</span>
  
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0024"><h2>24. Chapter 24</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'm considering doing a writing workshop-type thing for my streams soon, if anyone is interested :) I would probably pick a second day and time auxiliary to Saturdays, and dig through my old middle/high school writing. We could laugh at how bad it is, talk about why it's bad, and fix it up! Feel free to let me know here or <a href="https://www.twitch.tv/sketchy_faye">there</a> if that's something that interests you! I've also posted commission info on my <a href="https://stormyandrescuer.tumblr.com/">tumblr</a> if you're interested.</p><p>I did intend for the revelation to be less of a eureka moment like the last story, and more of a gradual coming-to-terms with what's necessary, but here we are.</p><p>Thanks so much for your feedback y'all! I continue to look forward to it! Now onward! The battle ain't over until everyone is home and safe.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>A SHIELD jet escorts them to the hospital. Since the city was evacuated promptly, the hospital is quiet enough. Anyone in the hallways makes way for Thor, Mjolnir clenched in one hand and his cape billowing out behind him as he devours the distance to the OR. Tony is off retrieving Banner from the Hulk, and Loki is on his way. Clint is the one who meets him at the doors and escorts him into the hospital. He’s jogging ahead now.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Nat’s with him,” the archer explains, pale and shaken. “They’re... He just needs you.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor nods resolutely, holding his head high, ready to be whatever kind of presence Steve needs him to be. It’s reassuring at least that his friends’ words imply that Steve is alive at the very least. They reach the OR, and there’s already a nurse waiting to guide him in.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s bad,” Clint warns, ashen-faced, hanging back. “Just so you know.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>In terms of gore, Thor isn’t worried. He’s seen plenty. He’s endured some pretty gruesome injuries himself, and their equally grisly treatments, the latter mostly at the hands of the Children. Or, at the very least, those are the treatments he’s been completely conscious and given no relief for.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Sir,” the nurse beckons, staring up at him with wide eyes. She looks from his scarred eye, to his cape, to the hammer in his fist. “This way, please,” she spins around and leads him inside. Thor gives Clint a firm nod and follows her. The nurse instructs him to wash up, and she gives him a sterile shirt to slip over his armor. Thor leaves his cape under his hammer on a shelf and walks into the OR through the door she holds for him. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>It looks like torture chamber, if he’s honest. The sight of everything strikes him immediately – the blood, the equipment, the people swarming around the table where Steve is spread, vulnerable and struggling. Gods, the blood... it’s everywhere, least of all in the bag feeding down a tube into Steve’s arm. The soldier is naked from the waist up, ghostly grey but still squirming under the hands trying to hold him down. Instinctively, Thor knows those hands are trying to help, but it still brings something up inside of him that he has to force down with a deliberate swallow. He approaches the table.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a tube in Steve’s mouth, connecting to a machine that upon inspection is pushing consistent and evenly-spaced gushes of air into the soldier’s chest, and not choking him as it first appeared. Natasha is at his head, holding his face and rubbing his cheeks while she offers encouragements. She looks up at the sight of Thor and visibly breathes a sigh of relief. “Thor... You’re here, thank god. He’s moving too much. Nothing they’re giving him is helping. He’s too strong.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve is still bleeding, even though the doctors are trying their best to get into the punctures to staunch it. They can’t get in too deep though, because Steve bucks when they try, not in his rational mind but completely aware. He can feel everything. Thor knows what that’s like, to be at the mercy of someone else while they rummage inside him. They took pleasure from it, but these doctors are trying to help, and Steve needs this to get better. He’ll die of blood loss if they don’t.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>More confidently than he’s ever felt, Thor slides his hand under Steve’s head and kisses his tear-streaked cheek. His other hand he rests on Steve’s chest, rubbing his thumb in slow circles. “Told you I would return,” he smiles, pleading for a look of recognition. He gets one: Steve stares at him, his eyes widening. “I’m here,” Thor reiterated. “I’m here, Steve. We will get through this, together.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He remembers what he would have liked when he was in Steve’s place. Just a hand to hold would have made a world of difference, one belonging to a friendly, trusted friend. Natasha pulls away, and Thor makes his world just him and the soldier. He leans in and delivers another tender kiss to the corner of Steve’s mouth, grabbing Steve’s hand, and holding it to the soldier’s chest. Then he slides his other arm under Steve’s head and cradles it in the crook of his arm. He can hold on better like this, and he can still bend down to keep up his shower of kisses. Steve slumps in Thor’s grip, all the impressive muscle of his huge body shivering with involuntary clenches. The look of terror is new on the stoic, brave Captain.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Soon it will be in the past,” Thor promises, gathering Steve’s other hand into his grip and holding on tight. He looks up at the surgeons, who are trying to do their jobs and watch at the same time. Natasha is flat-out staring, but she doesn’t seem that surprised. He nods at Steve’s legs and raises his eyebrows. Immediately, Natasha wraps her arms tenderly around them, rubbing her thumb into Steve’s knee. Thor looks up at the surgeons and gives them a nod, immediately turning his focus back to Steve, ready to pulls his friend through what is essentially torture.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve’s period of respite is brief, his lethargic and glazing stare quickly reinvigorated the second work is resumed on the hideous, gushing wounds in the middle of his body. He starts to jerk upward, but Thor holds him down and the soldier doesn’t make it an inch. Machines with numbers and pulsing lines shout warnings, and Thor doesn’t take the time to inspect the monitor to learn what each piece of data means, but he doesn’t assume it’s good. And the wires run right to Steve’s chest, where they’re clamped to sticky circles. One is certainly pulse, because Thor can hear it galloping at the same pace as he can feel it pushing through Steve’s wrist. Ultimately though, Thor does his best to ignore everything else in the room; he has one job, one purpose, and it doesn’t involve treatment or diagnosing. He’s here as a substitute for pain medication and anesthetics.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve moans around the tube, his abs tightening as he tries again to sit up and escape the hands inside him. But with his arms held over his chest, he can’t. Without those involuntary responses, Thor is certain the soldier would be too weak to fight the medical staff too much. He adjusts the arm under Steve’s head and rubs the Captain’s shoulder, leaning down for another kiss. If only he had another set of arms, or he could stroke the soldier’s hair at the same time. As it is, Thor doesn’t dare let up his restraints even for a moment. Evey lull is followed by a sharp and prolonged resistance, and noises Thor can only imagine how they would sound without the tube blocking them. At least Natasha is managing her friend’s legs well enough on her own, protecting the staff from getting kicked in the face for their efforts.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>If only morphine could do for Steve what it did for Thor, what apparently it does for most humans. He can see they’re trying to pump the soldier with anything they can, but it’s not doing a thing. Thor’s metabolism is faster than Steve’s if only by a little, so it’s curious that the medication worked for him but doesn’t for Steve. </span>
  <em>
    <span>An interesting property of human drugs... or perhaps simply this one.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Maybe Asgardian blood is compatible with the formula of morphine. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Cruel that I received relief for my wounds, while Steve must suffer through far worse without any aid at all.</span>
  </em>
  <span> It’s no wonder Steve is averse to hospital trips, knowing they can’t help him in that regard. It can’t be pleasant, this jungle of tubes and wires draped across the room, all of which seem to lead to Steve. They’re helping, evidently, but surely none of them feel pleasant.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>A nurse replaces an empty blood bag for another, then goes to tend the second IV line. Thor steals a glance and catches her subtle but incredulous expression as she looks between the flow rate and Steve, then back. Wiping away his mournful expression, Thor presses a particularly lengthy and tender kiss into Steve’s forehead damp from exertion. Steve shivers under him, clutched tightly in the claws of immeasurable suffering. </span>
  <em>
    <span>For me. You risked your life for me, knowing full well what Midnight would do to you if she caught you. And she did. She got you. She had you alone.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>It’s little consolation that she’s dead, but he focuses on how good it feels because he needs to be grounded. The least he can do is try not to beat himself up, because Steve won’t want that.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve will pull through. His serum will lift him from the fire and make his period of healing short. And Thor will take care of him throughout. He has no plans to leave. This is his world, his purpose.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>As the intensive surgery progresses, and Steve becomes more and more worn out, Natasha doesn’t have to fight so hard to restrain his legs. Thor doesn’t let up though, keeping tirelessly close and holding Steve tight. She must be weary, but he isn’t. He can do this all day. Thor encourages and soothes, speaking in a low and relaxed voice. He talks Steve through each wave and praises him at the end of it. They’ve never needed words to communicate, and they certainly don’t now – Thor orders the surgeons to pause if Steve needs reprieve, and they listen to him. This is hard on them, too, and he admires their courage and empathy as they do what they can. Urgency is still present though, and Thor does his best to minimize the time he asks for between rounds, efficiently bringing the Captain down to a place where they can continue.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Blissfully, the surgery comes to an end. Steve doesn’t look good, long past his limit as the hard work wraps up and the doctors start the process of closing up the wounds. The whole room breathes with relief that at least this part is done, especially Steve who is entirely limp and losing himself to the blissful release of unconsciousness. He seemed to be losing blood as quickly as they could pour it back in, and the trauma is finally winning, taking him away now that pain and panic are no longer keeping him here. Still, Thor doesn’t let go, continuously rubbing and murmuring even as Steve’s eyes slide shut. The staff breathe to him their thank-</span>
  <span>yous</span>
  <span> as they break free of their focused masks. Thor thanks them right back, helping them move Steve’s large body when everything is finished. They whisk him away to get him set up in a room, and Thor leaves the OR to get cleaned up. There’s blood all over his hands and shirt.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Natasha sways to the sink beside him, pale and shaky as she washes her hands. “God...” she whispers.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor nods, drying his hands and pulling off the shirt he was given. It feels right, and they both turn into the hug at the same time. The spy slumps in his arms, and he holds her up, shaken himself but calm and steady.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“The others need to know he made it through,” she sighs, pushing off his chest and rubbing her eyes. She takes in his armor properly this time. “We were lucky to have you.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Everyone did well,” Thor smiles. “As did you.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <span>Oh</span>
  <span> come on,” she smiles back, a little bit of humor soaking in. “Everyone knows you could have basically handled that on your own.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Not true,” Thor shakes his head, picking up Mjolnir and draping his cape over his shoulder, guiding her out of the room and into the hallway. “You all did your part.” She smiles tiredly and sighs in agreement, loosening the zipper of her uniform.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>When they round the corner, Clint is sitting there waiting along with the others. They all stand up, fearful and speechless, gathering closer. Even Bruce is there, tired but ready to help, dressed in jeans and one of Tony’s shirts. Fury too is present, hanging back looking composed, but his worry showing in the stoicism purposefully plastered on top.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s stable,” Natasha quickly reassures them, and they all heave sighs of relief.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll find out if I can do anything,” Bruce gives a nod and walks past.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Tony flops back into his chair, the clothes he was wearing under his suit rumpled. He picks a plastic bag off the floor and offers it up. “Tesseract is secure,” he says. “Swung by the tower for some clothes on the way.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor takes the bag. Inside are some changes of clothes for himself, and the two spies still in their uniforms. “Thank you.” He takes the largest set and passes the bag to Natasha.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>In the bathroom just down the hall, they go to change one at a time. Come Thor’s turn, he shuts the door and hangs Mjolnir and his cloak off the hook. The second he turns, the mirror is right there, and he sees himself completely. He looks like himself. Nothing like the photograph a hundred years aged that Natasha showed him in his cell months ago, but that’s alright. Different is alright. Even if he were to change his clothes, grow his hair out, and cover up the scar, that difference shows in his eyes.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Half an hour later he’s sitting at Steve’s bedside in his usual clothes, tracing the patterns of Mjolnir in his lap. It feels how he feels, different yet familiar. Reborn, but changed, like a tune sung in a different chord.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The room is quiet. The others came in to check, but they’ve gone to rest or fetch food, so it’s just Thor, his thoughts, and the symphony made by the various machines hooked up to his Captain. He would crawl right into that bed if it weren’t so small and there weren’t so many tubes and wires in the way. He would bring Steve home to recover, but he needs all this to help. They’ll have to stay here a little longer.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>That’s alright. It’s not so bad here. Their room is quiet and private, with a window looking down at the walkway through a colorful garden. Steve is unconscious, but it’s not enough to truly sever him from his pain, which is deeply etched into his face. Thor even spent the time reading the bags mixing into both IV lines, and sure enough there’s morphine dripping into the chamber as fast as it will go. A soothing hand can’t smooth away the creases, let alone take away the pain causing them, but Thor strokes Steve’s forehead all the same, finding it calming.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“How is he?” Thor looks up to see his brother quietly shutting the door behind him, dressed in his black suit as usual. Loki walks to the other side of the bed and frowns down at the soldier in it.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“He will recover,” Thor answers. “With rest.” He sets Mjolnir on the bedside table and stands up, nervously smoothing out his shirt.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“It is good to see that,” Loki smiles and nods over at Mjolnir. “It has been </span>
  <span>orbiting</span>
  <span> Earth since not long after you fell.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“It is good indeed to hold it,” Thor agrees. They both stare down at Steve and watch him breathe perfect, mechanized breaths. Thor looks up again. “I’m sorry,” he starts. “For yelling at you. It wasn’t fair. None of this was your fault.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Loki’s smile is sad. “My actions led to this,” he says. “And I still got you banished. You have a right to be angry.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve had the right too. Thor shakes his head. “It was an accident.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“An accident with devastating consequences,” Loki retorts. “You cannot expect me to simply accept-”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I am not,” Thor calmly cuts his brother off and takes a deep breath. “I ask only that you forgive yourself. You were not responsible for the actions of others.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“But I </span>
  <span>abandoned</span>
  <span> you when you needed me,” Loki grabs the bed rails, his composure falling apart. “I let her come to you while I knew and did nothing-!”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Perhaps I should not have pushed you away,” Thor reasons. “Perhaps I should have asked for help sooner.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Perhaps,” Loki smiles and wipes his eyes. “But who can blame you.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“My point exactly,” Thor agrees. Loki starts to protest, but he opens his arms invitingly and walks slowly around the bed. Loki follows, and they move faster and faster until they collide at Steve’s feet in a tight hug. Thor wraps himself around his brother and squeezes a </span>
  <span>squeak</span>
  <span> out of him. “Sorry,” he murmurs, loosening. “I am very glad you’re here. You helped us a great deal today.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I missed you,” Loki squeezes too, hooking his chin over Thor’s shoulder. “I’m very glad you’re back.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Even like this...?” Thor questions.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course,” Loki agrees. “You will always be you, even if you’re not... not the same.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that not the part of me that always annoyed you?” Thor smiles, tipping his head against his brother’s.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Sometimes,” Loki agrees. “I suppose I missed it once it was gone...” He pulls away and holds out his hands. From his </span>
  <span>fists</span>
  <span> manifests Odin’s staff, shimmering into existence. Loki offers it up. “It’s rightfully yours,” he says quietly, but willing.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor smiles and pushes it back surely. “My path has changed,” he replies. “You were always more suited to the throne than me. </span>
  <span>Asgard</span>
  <span> has gotten on fine with you at the helm for a century.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Think on it,” Loki insists. “Please.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I already have,” Thor smiles. He looks over at Steve. “I’m happy here. Besides, I’m not certain I’m suited to rule.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Thor, what happened makes you no less worthy-”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not because of that,” Thor promises. “A throne was never where I was meant to be, at least not for now. I think I will stay here for a while.” Earth has always felt like home, though he suspects that’s got more to do with who lives here.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Very well,” Loki straightens and lets the staff melt out of his hands. “If that is what you want...”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“It is,” Thor smiles, pulling his brother back into the hug. “The throne is where you belong.” Loki huffs and leans into the hug once more. Neither of them </span>
  <span>has</span>
  <span> anywhere to be, and Thor’s not sure he’d rather be anywhere else if he did. “Thank you for your help, brother.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You did well on your own,” Loki chuckles. “I’m... I’m proud of you.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m proud of you, too,” Thor smiles.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Below them, Steve moves under his blankets, and the monitor beep a bit faster. The brothers let go of each other and hurry to the bedside. Steve’s eyelids flutter for a few drawn-out seconds before pulling apart. His hand slides off his belly and wraps clumsily around the blankets. The soldier groans around the tube, and his forehead beading with sweat as he tries to move and say something.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Thor untangles the cold, clammy hand from the blankets and holds it. “Just relax, Steve.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve shivers and drags his gaze around to land on him. His fingers curl in Thor’s grip and he pushes his heel into the mattress. It’s a movement of stress, an outlet. The Captain lifts his shoulder like he’s going to sit, but Loki reaches in to push him down while Thor secures his other hand.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>It’s clear to see that Steve isn’t comfortable or at ease, but the soldier can’t say what he needs or how he’s feeling. That shouldn’t be a problem, not after all the time they’ve spent together communicated without words. Thor lets go of Steve’s hand and guides it around his own wrist, curling the fingers into place. “How much does it hurt?” Thor asks. “Tell me. One to five.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a moment of dreaded pause as Steve process the question or decides his answer, but when he comes to the realization, he squeezes all four fingers and his thumb tightly around Thor’s arm. It’s not just a five, but an unabashed one – he's at the mercy of his wounds. Thor shuts his eyes in commiseration and kisses Steve’s forehead.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I can put him to sleep,” Loki holds up his hand, frowning deeply. He looks down at Steve. “I can put you to sleep, Captain.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that alright?” Thor adds quickly. “Squeeze for yes.” Steve’s grip clenches just as tightly once more, and Thor leans back so that Loki can move in and touch his fingers to the soldier’s head. The second they make contact, Steve’s eyes fall shut and he goes completely limp. The monitors settle as Thor pulls his wrist away and takes up Steve’s hand again. “Things will be better soon,” he promises, even though the soldier can’t hear him.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>--</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>For two months-plus-change, he and Steve have consistently spent almost all their time together, so walking down to the cafeteria alone is a little odd. Walking to the grocery store during Steve’s periods of work leave were different, even though they too involved waiting.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thanks to Loki’s spell, Steve slept soundly through the night, even as the nurses came and went regularly to check on him or change out the IV bags. Even this morning when they changed his dressings, he remained completely unconscious, blissfully unaware. Thor’s had a look at the wounds, and even after an evening and a whole night of rest, they don’t look any different. Suffice to say, he was reluctant to agree to the prodding of his friends; but after a night hunched in a chair much too small, Thor can’t deny he could spare a few minutes from vigil to stretch his legs and eat. Steve would absolutely be alright with that, and the soldier has lots of friends to take care of him in his absence.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor uses the money Tony gave him to buy some food from the cafeteria, which he doesn’t deliberate much over. Haphazardly, he chooses a few things and brings them outside to eat in the sunshine. It’s a lovely day. Too nice to be trapped inside. It would be a wonderful day for a walk or a picnic. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>By the time he’s finished his breakfast, and a full loop of the garden, he’s too anxious and hurries back to the ICU. Bruce is on his way in as well and they pause outside the door. Thor frowns at the doctor’s concerned expression; Bruce has been consulting with the doctors, as the closest thing they have to an expert on the serum. Scientifically, anyway; Steve’s the one who knows how it works by experience, but little help he can offer them right now. Besides, what they need is someone who understands the serum in a way that will help ease Steve’s suffering, and Thor severely hopes Doctor Banner can do that.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>So far, it doesn’t seem like it, but twelve hours isn’t much time to develop brand new medication. Bruce sighs. “We’re running some blood and tissue samples now,” he explains. “The serum isn’t healing him as fast as it should be.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor’s frown deepens. “What does that mean?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“It means he could be here a lot longer than we anticipated,” Bruce is clearly worried, but he holds onto a much-appreciated calm. “I figured you would be able to take him home in two or three days, keep him in bed, make sure he rests. We thought we would be able to take him off the ventilator by noon, but he’s not fighting it as much as we’d like.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>That reality sinks in. “How long must he stay here?” Thor asks quietly. “How long until he can come off that machine?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Bruce shakes his head apologetically. “I don’t know,” he admits. “My hope is that the serum will kick in and heal him at normal speed. It may be healing the most delicate wounds first, and the process will speed up when it’s done with those, but so </span>
  <span>far</span>
  <span> we can’t see </span>
  <em>
    <span>any </span>
  </em>
  <span>accelerated progress. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> healing, but at a normal human rate. We don’t want him on the ventilator more than a couple of days in case he becomes dependent on it, but beyond that he could be here for a week. Maybe more. A punctured stomach, liver, and lung shouldn’t be a problem for the serum, but without it’s help he’s got a long recovery ahead of him.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Long, and painful. Thor nods. “Is there nothing to ease his suffering?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Tony is helping me look for ways to make a stronger anesthetic,” Bruce agrees, “but we haven’t made much progress. We’ll keep looking.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” Thor smiles, wishing he had more to give. This is not his area of expertise. At the very least, his hands are good for squeezing.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>When they walk in the room, everyone is there: Tony sits beside the bed, and Natasha stands on the other side while Clint arranges some flowers in a vase on the table. Loki stands by the window, watching the sky. Steve is awake, staring up at the TV mounted above where he can easily see it reclined. He doesn’t look entirely there, and he’s visibly shaking even from here, hands weakly clutching the blankets, but he’s tracking what’s happening on the screen. He looks... enraptured.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, hey,” Tony stands up and steps out of the chair. “Welcome back. I was just about to make a coffee run. You want anything?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor has to admit he would enjoy that very much. “Thank you,” he nods.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You got it,” Tony gives Steve’s ankle a squeeze as he walks by, leaving with Bruce and shutting the door behind him.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve notices him as he sits, and his grey-ringed eyes are filled with weary amazement. He makes a short groaning noise and moves his hand closer, grabbing Thor’s fingers as he reaches out and pulls them over. Then he looks back up at the screen. Thor looks too, and he sees the news is playing. On it, is footage of yesterday’s battle, words scrolling across the bottom and a woman talking. The volume is low, but Thor doesn’t bother paying the anchor any attention anyway, staring at the film clearly shot on a phone by someone standing on the ground.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>It’s of him, flying out of the intersection with his scarlet cape flowing out behind him as Tony blasts off to look for the tesseract. The sky is just as black as he remembers it, covering the whole city while his lightning lights it up. The camera changes, playing footage captured by someone else at a different place in the city. This clip shows him leaping across the high-rises as he chases Ebony Maw and tries to strike him down with bolt after bolt, Mjolnir grasped proudly in his hand. Clip after clip plays, showing various points throughout the battle from a number of angles, all while the news anchor talks over it. Finally, the clips run out and they replay the loop. Thor looks back at Steve’s enamored eyes watching him whiz across the screen, and they’re just as awe-filled when the soldier turns his head to stare at him in-person.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s me,” Thor smiles. The remote is left on the mattress within reach of Steve’s hand, but someone else must have turned the television on for him because there’s no way he’d be able to hold it and push the right buttons. Thor puts it on the bedside table but leaves the television on, sliding his arm under Steve’s head and rubbing the soldier’s knuckles with the other hand. He comes as close as he can, careful of the IV lines and wires, and rests his head against Steve’s. “I had long forgotten about Mjolnir...” Knowing he’s worthy is... indescribable. Relieving, but unbelievable in a way. He feels he should be surprised, after everything he’s done, but the fact that it isn’t says so much about Steve, and the way Steve’s makes him feel.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve brings up his other hand and drags it up to the cluster of woven fingers on his chest. Thor holds it too, kissing the corner of Steve’s mouth. The soldier is still trembling, and though his blood transfusion has ended, he hasn’t regained much color. Suffering is evident in his expression.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“If I could free you from this I would,” Thor promises quietly. “</span>
  <span>Unfortunately</span>
  <span> my power does not extend that far. After everything you’ve done for me...” He resists the urge to apologize, knowing it would only frustrate Steve more. He sighs, searching his brain for something else he can do, but this is all he can think of, to hold Steve close. The warmth may help, too. Perhaps he should ask for another blanket or two; Steve is still freezing cold.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The others stay in the room but hang back, and Thor stays right where he is. He draws the blankets over Steve’s arms and cautiously moves the IV lines out of the way before slipping his own hand underneath for Steve to squeeze. They watch the news broadcast, Steve watching the same handful of clips without showing signs of boredom. He only pauses to squeeze his eyes shut and dig his heel into the mattress as the pain grips him with the same vigor as it did yesterday. Moving around isn’t helping, even though he’s too weak to do much. Thor stills him and slides his wrist into Steve’s grip invitingly. Rapidly obliging, Steve squeezes tightly – five again.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor looks around, but Loki has already rushed over and is offering his hand. He gently presses his fingers into Steve’s forehead, and with a rush of magic, the soldier once more goes limp, liberated from his suffering for the next few hours. Thor sighs and squeezes Steve’s hands before sliding his out and rearranging the blankets.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Is he okay...?” Natasha approaches with Clint close behind.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He’s alive, at least, and not dying. He’s not getting better either, though. Thor combs out Steve’s forelock with his fingers and strokes it back. The best they can do is wait, and think; Loki’s spell is a good enough short-term treatment, but they can’t keep knocking Steve out every time the pain flares above its significant baseline. What about when he can breathe by himself? Steve can’t just... spend the entirety of his recovery unconscious.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>They’re powerless, though. It’s in the hands of Tony and Bruce and the other doctors. “He will be,” Thor whispers.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Restless, the spies walk off. Loki stays, standing quietly by the window again while Thor stay in the chair and watches Steve sleep. The nurses come and go as they have been, and though he’s frustrated that he can’t help, he’s not leaving this chair. The best he can do is think as hard as he can for a solution. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>In an hour, the team is gathered back in the room, Tony handing out drinks while Bruce organizes his findings so far. Thor sips his coffee and puts his thoughts aside to listen. The doctor nudges up his glasses and holds up a tablet. “As far as we can tell, the serum is highly active around the wounds, where it should be,” Bruce explains. “It’s trying to work, but it can’t. We’re not finished testing the tissue samples, but it looks like there are traces of alien matter obstructing the healing process. It’s like the skin is burned, but... not exactly.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor frowns. Whatever material makes the prongs glow is inhibiting the serum from doing its job.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“The serum is metabolizing faster than usual,” Bruce continues, “and it’s using up everything we throw at it, medicine and nutrients included. We need him eating more than IV fluids, but right now he’s almost certain to suffer lung failure if we extubate. We’re waiting on his lung to heal.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve needs to eat to heal, but he needs to heal before he can eat. Meanwhile, the serum continues to drain whatever it has. It may just run out before it overcomes the resistance it’s facing, if it ever does.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“What does that mean...?” Natasha clutches Steve’s leg fiercely. “Will he... die?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Bruce quickly intervenes. “We have more options, and the tests aren’t done yet. Once we know more about the nature of the damage, we can figure out how to cure it. While we work on that, we’ll do our best to make him as comfortable as possible.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>That is worryingly palliative. Thor strokes Steve’s forehead. </span>
  <span>So</span>
  <span> they just... wait? Watch? The longer they wait, the more the serum can sap the Captain’s strength, which may be plentiful, but not endless. Steve is already so weak. His body needs to recover from severe blood loss, and extensive trauma to vital organs. And the worst of that process must be done in this room, in this bed, because he needs these machines to help him. Without them, he’ll stop breathing, stop working, and die. It’s one hell of a stalemate.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Everyone sips their coffee in solemn silence. Tony and Bruce are quick to file out and get back to work, leaving the others jealous of the practical help the two scientists can provide. Even Loki looks displeased, worrying the edge of his paper drink cup. Oblivious, Steve continues to sleep, mercifully free of the burden, and for now, his pain. Thor hopes at least. He hopes the suffering can’t permeate Loki’s magic.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>As the day drags on, the Avengers filter in and out, taking turns. Tony pokes his head in once and a while, but quickly runs off to rejoin Bruce. Even Thor goes for another walk. This time, the others convince him to walk all the way home for a shower and a change of clothes. He does, rubbing generous amounts of shampoo into his hair and cleaning off the grime of battle. Once he’s clean and dry, he walks into Steve’s room for clothes.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Amazingly, he’s not that tired, despite fighting so hard yesterday, and sleeping so little last night. Thor eyes the bed, and decides to take a quick nap. His body will thank him for resting it, and on a bed instead of cramped in a chair. Thor collapses on his chest and falls right to sleep.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>--</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Several hours have passed when he wakes up and looks at the clock. Thor groans and sits, rubbing his eyes and rolling out of bed. He hurries into the kitchen in search of their phones and finds them where they always leave them before going out: right on the kitchen counter, plugged in. Thor puts both in his pocket and is about to leave when he stops and turns back.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>His old room feels different now that Midnight is no longer around to surprise him in it. Thor kneels by the bed and picks up the phonograph.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>It must look rather odd, a man carrying a piece of clunky, </span>
  <span>outdated</span>
  <span> technology down the street, but Thor doesn’t care. No-one stops him from walking right into the hospital with it, and carrying it all the way to the ICU. He goes straight into Steve’s room and sets it on the table, winding the handle and setting the needle into the grooves of the record.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>When he approaches the bed, Natasha is in the chair, rubbing her thumb up and down Steve’s forehead. There’s another machine added to the fleet, another tube looping over Steve’s ear and into his nose. Natasha looks up and smiles sadly at him, glancing over her other shoulder to the phonograph before returning her attention to Steve. Her shoe taps quietly on the floor in time with the music. “Good sleep?” she asks.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“It was, thank you,” Thor agrees. “I keep thinking of something else we can do, but... I cannot.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“He woke up while you were gone,” she relays. “Loki put him back to sleep. Tony hasn’t stopped by in a while... I hope it’s because he’s onto something. I’m...” she swallows. “I’m scared it won’t be enough.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Earth medicine is remarkable,” Thor reassures kindly.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry,” Natasha smiles apologetically up at him. “Shouldn’t be offloading that onto you, of all people...”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Why not?” Thor tips his head.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re his closest friend.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You worry for him as much as I do,” Thor remarks. “You have as much right to voice your fears as I or anyone else do.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Natasha looks down and smiles again. “I can’t believe we locked you in a cage...” She shakes her head.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I did attempt to harm you on multiple occasions,” Thor reasons good-naturedly. “And I did throw you down quite hard... Apologies.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“No hard feelings,” Natasha snorts lightly. “I seem to recall kicking you in the face, so, apologies there.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you?” Thor frowns and squints as he sifts through the memories of their fight on the helicarrier.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>They share a brief and burdened laugh before resuming their silent watch, now accompanied by the music. The tune is far too cheerful, but it helps make the room feel less like a hospital. Earth medicine truly is amazing, with all the things it can do to aid Steve’s body function until it’s strong enough to carry on without support. Humans seems to be good at making fluids that serve all kinds of purposes, which can be easily delivered to the body. But they can’t make anything for the pain, not for Steve. So far, only magic can do that.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor knows what Steve needs. He needs magic, and Asgard. He straightens, and Natasha looks up. “What is it?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Where did Loki go?” he asks.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“He said he went for a walk- Thor wait!” She starts to rise.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Stay with him!” Thor orders. “I won’t be long!” He runs out of the room and into the hallway, careful not to go too fast in case he knocks someone down. Fears of his homeland are buried under hope – Steve will likely pull through with the ministrations Earth can provide, but it will be a long and arduous process. Thor </span>
  <em>
    <span>knows</span>
  </em>
  <span> his friends will find a solution, but he also knows that </span>
  <span>Asgard</span>
  <span> has methods that can make this process so much faster. Their magic clearly works on humans, and it should work on Steve. They can help him heal, reduce his suffering. That is worth risking Thor’s personal comfort for.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Loki can’t be far. Thor checks the cafeteria, before finally spotting his brother in the gardens. Ignoring the stares of other patients wandering the grounds, he runs down the path. Loki turns to spot him, rushing over to meet him with worry plastered all over his face. “Thor! Is Steve alright? I just put him to sleep-”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Loki, we must take him to </span>
  <span>Asgard</span>
  <span>,” Thor slows, already starting to turn. “The </span>
  <span>Eir</span>
  <span> can help him, surely.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Most likely,” Loki agrees, immediately on-board. “But Thor, his breathing...”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I will ask Doctor Banner,” Thor agrees. “If we’re fast enough it should not matter.” The </span>
  <span>Eir</span>
  <span> can make sure Steve keeps on breathing the second he’s in their care.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>In a matter of minutes, they’re back, and Natasha has helped them round up everyone in the hospital room to discuss the plan. Bruce frowns at it. “I’m not sure how well Steve will be able to breathe on his own... He’s fighting the machine, but not as much as he should be for us to start getting him off.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“How long would he have?” Thor asks.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“A few minutes,” Bruce shrugs. “Hard to say. Thor, even with the serum, oxygen deprivation could still do serious damage.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I can get him to the </span>
  <span>Eir</span>
  <span> in a few minutes,” Thor nods. “Please. He cannot suffer here any longer. No offense to your efforts, but there is no relief for him here. He’s in constant pain.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I agree with you,” Bruce nods. “We’re... pathetically unequipped to deal with the serum. I wouldn’t make him suffer for the sake of pride. We should see how he does off the ventilator first though.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course,” Thor agrees, gripped Steve’s arm. In the wake of another, more favorable option, his calm has been burned away by a strange mix of desperation and excitement.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“We need him awake,” Bruce starts, and Loki walks up to the bed, touching Steve’s forehead to retract the spell.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>All six of them wait in anticipation, watching Steve’s eyelids tremble and drift slowly open. Immediately, they fill with pain, and the agonized shuffling and grasping of blankets resumes. Thor holds onto Steve’s hand and leans closer. “Steve... We may have a way to end this, but we have to try something first.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Are we uh, </span>
  <span>gonna</span>
  <span> consult the respiratory specialist?” Tony asks. “Or anybody?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Nope,” Bruce goes right to the ventilator to set about disconnecting the tube and shutting it off.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Good, didn’t think so,” Tony agrees. “I’ll keep anybody out.” He strides to the door to stand guard.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, Steve,” Bruce disconnects the tube and leaves the end in the soldier’s mouth. “Deep breaths, okay? Deep as you can. Do your best.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>It’s a struggle, and the first breath is clearly very difficult. The second comes a little easier. They’re shallow and laborious, but Steve does it. His face creases with effort and increased agony, and he squeezes Thor’s wrist tighter than he’d be able without the pain contracting his fingers. “That’s it,” Thor coaxes. “Well done.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re doing good, Steve,” Bruce agrees. “A few more, then you can rest.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve does his very best, but it’s clearly hard work, and he’s not ready. His lung is too damaged, and he needs a more gradual release from the machine’s </span>
  <span>assistance</span>
  <span>. Thor can see that for himself. It feels like a victory to see Steve breathe by himself though, and Thor can’t help but smile glowingly even as Bruce hooks the machine back up and makes sure it kicks in properly. Exhausted, Steve goes lax.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I think he’ll manage a few minutes,” Bruce says quietly and looks around at all of them gathered around the bed. He looks up to Thor. “Are you sure about this?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Very,” Thor nods. “Asgardian practices are advanced in the ways he needs it. Their magic can cure what is resisting his serum, and it can help him to heal faster than even the serum could by itself.” It may have been a century since he last witnessed or enjoyed the work of the </span>
  <span>Eir</span>
  <span>, but he knows it can help.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Bruce nods. “Let him rest, and we’ll get him ready to go in two hours.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I will alert Heimdall,” Loki says.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor sits back in the chair, knowing this is right. He ignores his fear and apprehension and forces confidence to take its place. This is what Steve needs, and this is the least he can do. Steve cut him loose and rescued him. Steve deserves a swift, painless recovery.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>--</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Loki puts Steve back to sleep so he can rest as deeply as possible until it’s time to go, while Thor waits anxiously. Heimdall is ready to take them up whenever he receives the call, and Loki has instructed him to prepare the </span>
  <span>Eir</span>
  <span> for their arrival. Anxiety grips Thor’s body so badly he has to get up and pace to stop his leg from bouncing, and his hands are shaking – the </span>
  <span>Eir</span>
  <span> will take care of Steve, he knows that! He knows Steve will be alright. But as much as he has faith in Steve’s strength and in the competence of his people, he can’t help but feel selfish that his worry derives solely from fear of returning home. Fear of seeing his kingdom and his family again. His worry should be focused solely on Steve, and not what his family will think of him.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>They don’t know what happened to him. So far, it’s only Steve, Loki, and Heimdall who are aware of what Midnight did to him, and he’s terrified that his parents will find out. What if his mother can tell, somehow? Frigga was always perceptive, always knew something was wrong and was able to get to the root of the problem. Thor doesn’t want her to know. He doesn’t want her to know that the former crown prince of </span>
  <span>Asgard</span>
  <span> has been taken advantage of. Steve may not see him as tarnished, but what will his family think...? What will </span>
  <em>
    <span>Odin</span>
  </em>
  <span> think? Mother will surely welcome him back, that he has faith in even after all these years, but his father...?</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Odin has been in the </span>
  <span>odinsleep</span>
  <span> since you fell,” Loki says quietly, standing by the bed, somehow inheriting his mother’s perceptiveness despite not being related to her by birth. “Thor... I will protect your secret in any way I can. If it is not your wish for them to find out, so be it. But Mother will at least want to see you.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” he croaks, leaning on the window. “I just... never planned for it.” He’s not prepared at all, what to say to her or even what to do. He has no idea how she might react, and has nothing prepared for any of those reactions she may have to seeing her assumed-dead son. He knows he looks different, hair and scarred eye aside. What will she expect of him? Will she pity him? </span>
  <span>Or be afraid?</span>
  <span> Perhaps... disappointed. He doubts the last one, but the first two are very plausible.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I will give you as much time as I can,” Loki promises. “But once she knows you have </span>
  <span>returned,</span>
  <span> I may not be able to keep her from you. Certainly not for long.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>What Thor needs is Steve. If he had the time to prepare himself to meet his family, he would sit down and think about it for a few days, gather himself, and have Steve at his side. Steve is his anchor. Steve isn’t in any shape to be providing that kind of support, and he may not be for some time yet. His mother may not wait, and fairly so. Thor cannot blame her if she’s eager to see him.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Even without Steve, he is not without allies. Thor looks back at his brother. “Loki...?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Loki’s eyebrows jump, his eyes inviting.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“When she comes... will you stay?” He needs the backup, someone who can help if for some reason any part of the interaction is too much for him. “I don’t want to be alone.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course,” Loki smiles. “</span>
  <span>Of course</span>
  <span> I will.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” Thor sighs, relieved. Even if Loki stands in the corner in silence, that may be all he needs.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The time has come – Bruce arrives and shuts off the machines one-by-one. By the time he’s taking the IV lines out of each of Steve’s arms, the rest of the group have assembled in the little room. Tony doesn’t stay long, taking Clint and Natasha with him to clear a space in the parking lot. With just the ventilator left, Loki undoes his spell, and they watch Steve wake up.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Bruce disconnects the machine. “Deep breaths, Steve,” he coaxes, counting them until he’s satisfied and pulls out the tube. Steve coughs, and Thor stills him, listening intently to each breath. They’re terribly labored like before, and take just as much effort as the first round did, but Steve does his best. Quickly as he can, Thor wraps Steve in his blankets, loops his wrist through Mjolnir’s strap, and picks the soldier off the bed. Loki runs ahead, and Thor follows out of the hospital. Nobody gets in their way, parting for Loki as the Allfather’s dark suit is magicked away for his usual green and gold outfit, spear in-hand and everything.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>This is the moment. Thor’s heart is racing as he follows Loki into the large block of stalls his friends have been keeping empty. He stands behind his brother and holds Steve against his chest, listening to the soldier’s breathing, and focusing solely on that.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Heimdall!” Loki calls, and immediately the bi-frost </span>
  <span>strikes</span>
  <span> down around them and sucks them right off the ground.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>It’s a sensation he hasn’t enjoyed for a long time. As they soar up into space surrounded by rainbow light, he holds onto Steve and hopes the experience isn’t too rough for his body to endure. When they land, Steve is still breathing, ashen and slick with sweat, but holding his own for the time being. He’s clearly growing weary, losing strength with each pull of his lungs.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Thor.” Heimdall pulls out his sword and the spinning dome slows to a stop. “The </span>
  <span>Eir</span>
  <span> are waiting for you.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Heimdall has always been the staple of calm, but his statuesque demeanor cracks as their eyes meet. Thor adjusts Steve in his grip and holds him in one arm, wrapping his hand around Mjolnir’s handle. “Thank you,” he nods. There will be more words later, but for now both of them understand that time is short. Thor runs out of the bi-frost and onto the rainbow bridge.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Last he was </span>
  <span>here,</span>
  <span> he’d smashed it to piece. A thin line is visible, and there are railings built along the sides. When he looks along it, the bridge still stretches in-land toward the golden palace, over the waterfall that vanishes into the space that surrounds them from all sides. He sets his gaze and spins Mjolnir.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“The </span>
  <span>Eir</span>
  <span> are in your room,” Loki says. “I will meet you there.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you.” Thor flings himself into the air and toward the kingdom he used to dream about ruling. This time, instead of a cape, it’s his sweater hood that flaps behind him. He wonders if the people below can see him, and what they’re thinking if they can. If they would do a double-take standing face-to-face –  surely he must be unrecognizable from up here.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor does his best not to think about how it makes him feel to set foot back in his kingdom. He jogs a couple of steps in his sneakers as he lands and hugs Steve with his other arm, running into the halls he grew up in. People move out of the way, staring as he goes by. With every second, Steve’s breaths come rougher and shorter and more strained. His eyes are barely open as his body uses all its strength to keep him breathing, and the soldier fights himself awake to keep at it. He’s not taking in the scenery at all, but then neither is Thor.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>A huddle of Asgardian doctors </span>
  <span>are</span>
  <span> clustered around Thor’s old bed, preparing it for an occupant and arranging some supplies. They look up as Thor bursts in, making room for him to carry Steve to the edge and set him tenderly on the sheets. None of the women have anything to say as they respectfully wait for Thor to unwrap the scratchy hospital blankets. Thor takes Steve’s hand and stays close, leaving room for the women to approach.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve shivers more violently now that he’s left in just his thin hospital gown, writhing on the bed and squeezing Thor’s wrist as the thin white ties are undone and pulled off his body. Respectfully, Thor reaches under the Eir and pulls the blanket up to Steve’s naked hips.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“His people could not aid him?” the eldest healer looks down at him.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Not him,” Thor shakes his head. “I have faith they would have fixed him eventually, but they can do nothing for his pain. Please...”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The </span>
  <span>Eir</span>
  <span> are warmer than he remembers, softer... The eldest healer nods once and fixes her attention on Steve. Her companions are already pulling away the thick layers of gauze wrapped around most of his torso, revealing the holes where he was impaled. They’re puckered and swollen, the stiches black against red skin. The healer takes a cup given to her by another woman and passes it down to Thor. “This will help,” she says.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor takes the cup and holds Steve up in his arm. “Here, drink,” he urges, setting the rim to Steve’s lips. The soldier drinks, swallowing painfully while he huffs between sips. He manages the entire contents though, and his body starts to still. Gradually, his shaking eases, and he falls limp in Thor’s arms, still breathing those dangerously insufficient breaths, but free of the pain.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I understand this may be difficult, but you must step aside,” the eldest healer gently orders. “He will be alright.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>There’s nothing he can do but take Steve’s hand off his wrist and lay it across his chest. Steve is in good hands. The healers will take care of him. Thor leans forward and kisses Steve’s bruises lips. “See you soon,” he promises, leaving his hammer on the bedside table.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“We will send for you,” the healer promises, taking his spot once he’s moved. He’s done his job in bringing Steve to deliverance, and now he just has to be patient.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>When he turns, Loki is waiting for him by the door, a concerned frown on his face as he peers inside for a glimpse of Steve through the women crowded around him. “Come on,” he holds out his arm and invites his brother gently to him. “Let’s get something to eat. Perhaps a drink.” </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor sighs and leans into Loki, his brother wrapping an arm around his shoulders. Yes, a drink would be nice... “Not much has changed,” he notes absent-mindedly as he finally gives himself the chance to look around. “I thought perhaps you would redecorate.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I have no issue with gold,” Loki remarks, taking them through the corridors toward the </span>
  <span>Allfather’s</span>
  <span> room. It will be more private than the dining hall, Thor supposes, which is his preference. He needs some time to adjust before he can handle the court staring at him. “Here, sit,” Loki guides him into the room and pulls out a chair for him. The table is already covered in food and drink.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Unable to deny that he’s starving, Thor doesn’t hesitate to reach out and fill his plate with </span>
  <span>Asgard’s</span>
  <span> usual plentiful offerings. Loki pours him a drink and slides over the glass. The food is good, and the liquor strong, but it’s not the same as a meal cooked with Steve or a beer shared with friends at the tower. This food is fit for royalty, and is far more luxurious than what most humans eat, but it’s not as tasty as a meal he and Steve chose on the laptop and shopped for together before spending the afternoon cooking. It has been a while since Thor enjoyed the strong buzz of Asgardian liquor, and he must admit that it’s something he’s missed. It’s a relief, too, calming his trembling.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you alright?” Loki sits adjacent to him, watching with the same concern he regarded Steve with.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor smiles blearily into his glass. “I am well. Thank you. Just... stressed.” He takes a sip and sets down his drink. “I am better with you here.” It’s nice to have someone here. It makes him feel safe, even though he knows </span>
  <span>Asgard</span>
  <span> is a safe place. No-one will attack him, but he doesn’t have the strength to face his people right now. With Loki here, at least he has a buffer, someone who can deflect unwanted attention, and someone to speak up for him if he needs it. Right now, he’s not having any trouble speaking, but that might change in the face of any other person – a soldier, an old friend, his own mother. Any of them could kick the legs out from under his composure simply by appearing, and he knows it.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Would you like a change of clothes?” Loki offers, picking over some grapes. He picks them off one by one, as delicately as Thor always remembering him being. He remembers trying to pull them off while leaving the seeds attached to the stem, and always failing. Loki is just as good as he was at applying the right amount of pressure to tug the grape off the stem, leaving the seed behind. It ended in an argument when Loki tried to teach him.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m alright, thank you,” Thor says. He’s comfortable in his jeans and sweater. He knows he sticks out, but he doesn’t care that much. People would stare whether or not he dressed in Asgardian clothes.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Loki catches him staring and smiles, offering a grape. “You never could manage to pull them off without the seeds.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I could not,” Thor takes it and smiles at the memory. He chews his grape thoughtfully. “I was more annoyed that you could and I could not, than at eating the seeds.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I must admit it was amusing to watch you try,” Loki eats another and hands another over. He picks up another vine and neatly plucks the grapes onto his plate. “To be fair though, you were quite determined. I felt a little sorry for you. </span>
  <span>But</span>
  <span> only a little.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor leans his cheek on his hand and watches his brother’s fingers strip the vine before pushing the plate between them. “There were a great many things I admired you for... I should have told you that. You are far brighter than me,” Thor admits.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“And you were always far braver. You still are,” Loki counters. “Perhaps had Odin acknowledged that as well as your own intelligence we may not be here either. What you endured, Thor... I’m not sure I could have made it out the other side as you did. You survived, and you retained yourself.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor takes a swig of drink, and when he sets it down Loki tops it up. He stares into the liquid. “I killed a lot of people, Loki,” he admits quietly. “Innocent people. Midnight told me how easily I was swayed... If I were </span>
  <span>smarter,</span>
  <span> I would have seen what they were doing. I should have. I should have known from the very first mission they sent me on, but I followed blindly and </span>
  <span>enacted</span>
  <span> Thanos’ massacre.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“That doesn’t make you stupid,” Loki retorts. “I am not the sole sufferer of what happened within our family... What I did hurt you. Had I not been so self-involved I may have seen you were suffering too. Odin had expectations of you that I was blind to until both of you were gone, and I was able to step back and think about all the centuries we had already spent together.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“He set you up for failure,” Thor looks up, “and he lied to you about who you were.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“He set you up for failure too,” Loki grabs another vine without looking away, methodically starting to strip it of its fruit like it’s some kind of soothing method. Thor looks down at his fingers rubbing his glass, the action serving a similar purpose. “We all failed each other,” Loki goes on, “and we all paid for it. But you paid the most. We must hold ourselves responsible for it. I know it’s not our fault that Thanos took you, and that his followers did those things to you, but it is our responsibility to admit that we fell short.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor watches the ripples in his drink. He remembers the Smiths telling a story about a family feud involving their son. Young Master Smith has wanted the inheritance, and when his parents hadn’t given it to them, an argument has ensued. He remembers </span>
  <span>Mr</span>
  <span> Smith nursing a drink much like Thor is, while Mrs Smith restrained tears and recounted the story with her husband’s quiet interjections. There were misunderstandings and miscommunications within their family too, leading to Master Smith feeling unimportant to his parents, less important than the farm. In the end, things had ended poorly, with Master Smith storming off with his horse. But nobody had died, or been murdered. Thor has hurt a lot of people. At the very least, Loki has managed to look after Asgard. “You’ve made a wise king,” he says, giving his brother </span>
  <span>the best smile</span>
  <span> he can muster. “I’m very proud of you. I wish I could go back and tell you how proud I was of you when you needed it, so I will have to make up for it somehow.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You survived,” Loki smiles back. “That makes up for it. We’re all even, Thor. The ledger is clear. I’m certain if we did the calculations, I would end up owing you.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Perhaps we should leave it at forgiveness, then,” Thor agrees. “It is in the past.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“All we can do is move forward,” Loki’s eyes glisten as he abandons his grapes and stands up, holding out his arms. Thor happily stands and falls into his brother’s embrace. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You have made a wonderful king,” Thor whispers. “Though... should a king be hugging his subject? Some guidelines of rule should not be ignored.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You are not my subject,” Loki retorts. “You are my brother.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“But you are also my king,” Thor draws back and grasps his brother by the shoulders.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“And you are under the protection of the </span>
  <span>Allfather</span>
  <span> and all of </span>
  <span>Asgard</span>
  <span>,” Loki stands tall and proud. “If </span>
  <span>anything</span>
  <span> else threatens you, I will be there. I will not hesitate.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor yanks Loki back into the hug and squeezes him. “Thank you,” he whispers, squeezing his eyes shut. “For just being here. And for everything. And for this.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course,” Loki replies softly.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor smiles and sighs. “I don’t recall you ever being this much of a hugger.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve made some exceptions,” Loki calmly pats his brother’s back.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“This is nice,” Thor loosens his grip and gets comfortable. “You’re very good at it.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I learned from you. I confess I started to miss your bears hugs when you stopped... Why did you?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought you did not like them....”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“The one time you attempt to consider what I wanted, and you got it wrong,” Loki chuckles good-naturedly.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, perhaps had you told me, I would have obliged,” Thor responds with mock indignance.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Tell you how I feel? Since when has anyone in our family ever done such a thing?” Loki laughs, but it’s burdened by the truth of the statement.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor sighs his agreement. “I love you.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you too,” Loki draws back and looked pointedly over his brother’s shoulder. “But I think there’s one you </span>
  <span>love</span>
  <span> more who needs you.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor turns around and sees one of the healers standing in the doorway. She nods at him, and slips away. He looks back at his brother. “I do love him,” he breathes. “But... I wouldn’t say it’s... more.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s different.” Loki agrees. “I am no expert, but you aren’t subtle.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I suppose not,” Thor chuckles. That sounds like who he used to be. </span>
  <span>Thanos</span>
  <span> hasn’t beaten every part of him away. Steve’s right: he isn’t ruined.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Go,” Loki urges, amused and relieved himself. When Thor turns to follow the healer back to his room, Loki follows too.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“The human will recover,” the healer explains. “He is in a deep healing sleep, and he will wake on his own when he’s well enough. He isn’t in any pain.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor breathes out his relief at the news, especially that Steve is no longer suffering. In fact, he looks much better already, especially without any machines attached to him. Without any invasive tubes, he looks much more like himself. Still pale and weak, but actually asleep. His chest is rising and falling on its own, with the aid of the magical dome over him that shimmers gold. It will support his body, slowly receding until Steve can function without it. Thor sits by the bed and reaches through the bubble to take Steve’s hand. The skin isn’t as cold as it was.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“He looks much better,” Loki says to the healer as she leaves. “Thank you.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” Thor echoes eagerly. Steve can rest properly now, free of machines, and free of pain. He can recover in a large, comfortable bed. And when he wakes, Thor will be here.</span>
  
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0025"><h2>25. Chapter 25</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Little bit of sexy and nakey in this chapter :) no sex, but certainly some physical intimacy.</p>
<p>As always, I look forward to your feedback! Thanks &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>For a little while it feels like he’s floating underwater with golden light shining through the waves lapping over him. He can’t get his eyes open, but the light pierces through his lids when they flicker. Then, he drifts back to sleep. It’s warm here, and he’s comfortable. He tries to wake up again in a little while, fleetingly curious as to where he is, but he fails and falls back to sleep.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>A little while later, the world starts to bleed back to his senses. First, the warm blankets, then the soft bed beneath him. He can breathe deeply and easily, and he’s glad to find the tube is gone when he rolls his tongue around his dry mouth. Steve opens his eyes – this isn’t a hospital, that much he can tell right away. It’s not his apartment either, nor the tower. He’s never been anywhere this... shiny. He opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. There has to be someone nearby... He moves his hand on the blankets, dragging it back and digging in his palm so he can try to sit up and look around.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Steve!” Even his foggy, sleepy brain knows right away that’s Thor’s voice. “Steve, you’re awake!” He hears someone shuffling around the bed, and then Thor looms over him, gathering him up off the pillows into a tight hug. A big hand closes around the back of his head and holds it. Steve tries to lift his arm to hug back, but he’s so weak that he can’t manage. “I was so worried...” Thor rubs his thumb into the back of Steve’s head. “Here, perhaps a drink... And something to eat. You must be hungry.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He is, now that Thor mentions it. Thor holds a delicate arm around his back as he arranges the pillows before laying him sitting against them. Steve’s not sure he’s ever felt this drained since he was a child, but more oddly than that is the fact that he’s not in any pain. There’s a dull ache in the background, but the pain is walled away.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor fusses with the blankets before putting a cup in Steve’s hand and guiding it to his lips. Cold, sweet water floods his mouth and wets the dryness. The first swallow is difficult, but the second and third come much easier, until he’s drinking as fast as Thor will let him.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Easy,” Thor smiles. “How are you feeling?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Tired,” Steve croaks.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It will pass,” Thor promises, exchanging the cup for a bowl. “The last few days have been strenuous for you. Are you in any pain...?” His dark eyebrows upturn with anticipation.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” Steve reassures. “None.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good,” Thor sighs. “Rest. You are healing, but you need time to recover.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve hums obediently. He doesn’t remember a whole lot from the hospital, but he knows he’s much happier here. Comfortable, safe. With Thor. “Where’s’is?” he asks, roaming his eyes around the room. It’s a little blurry, but his vision is improving by the minute.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <span>Asgard</span>
  <span>,” Thor explains, dipping a spoon into the bowl and holding it up. “Your body was struggling to heal you. Something about Midnight’s spear was </span>
  <span>interfering</span>
  <span> with your serum. The others did their best to help, but you were in a great deal of pain, so I took you here.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve swallows his soup. “Thanks.” He remembers vividly being in a lot pain during the time he was awake. “You okay...?” He summons his brain power to inspect his friend. “Seem... off.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I am well,” Thor reassures, holding up another spoonful of soup. “A little anxious, I suppose...”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Anxious, of course – here they are in Asgard, a place Thor hasn’t visited since he fell. A place he was terrified to return to. He doesn’t look entirely at ease. “You did... did this... for me?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course,” Thor smiles, stroking his hand down the side of Steve’s face and brushing back his hair. “How could I not? How could I let you suffer so badly in a place you despise? I should have brought you here the moment the battle ended.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“S’okay,” Steve leans into Thor’s hand. “Thank you. Didn’t have to do it.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Perhaps not, but you placed yourself in harm’s way for me. I could not allow you to suffer while there was something I could do,” he closes his eyes and fondly kisses Steve’s forehead, lingering. “Coming here is a small price to pay.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re so brave,” Steve murmurs. “Saw you... I saw...” He remembers Thor holding him as the hounds approached from all sides. Thor was ready to protect him with his body, but then a blinding light had forced him to shut his eyes, and when he’d opened them, he’d seen... He’d seen an avenging angel dressed </span>
  <span>in</span>
  <span> black and scarlet, crackling with power and his eyes glowing blue. He doesn’t remember watching the news as clearly, but he does recall being fixated on the image of a cloaked figure flying through a clouded sky, raining down lightning. Commanding a force of nature.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor is back in his sweater now, but he looks changed on the inside. His eyes and his smile are different. “Indeed,” he agrees bashfully.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“God of thunder...” Steve thinks back to his research. Since then, he hadn’t thought much about what that meant, but witnessing it for himself is... “Proud of you,” he beams, his smile pushing into his eyes. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“As am I,” Thor smiles proudly back.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Didn’t do </span>
  <span>anythin</span>
  <span>’...” Steve chuckles breathlessly. “</span>
  <span>Lemme</span>
  <span> be proud.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If you insist,” Thor agrees, a soft blush creeping into his cheeks as he looks down at the bowl of soup and scoops up some vegetables. “Now hush, and eat. I will bring you something else later if you feel up to it.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve opens his mouth and swallows. “</span>
  <span>D’you</span>
  <span> make this? S’good...”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Gods, no,” Thor chuckles.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, then it could be better.” If he weren’t so tired he might have been able to restrain his smile.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I will be happy to cook for you when we’re home,” Thor promises, satisfyingly amused. “But for now, indulge in Asgardian magic and luxuries while you can.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve smiles as he eats another mouthful of soup, because he would be happy resting in the barn if he had Thor to take care of him. Within this short space of time, he already feels better. But between his time in the hospital with the serum working on overdrive to fix him, and whatever process the Asgardian healers did for him here, he’s worn out and quickly starts to feel the pull of sleep drawing him away again. Thor hurries through the soup and gives him a cup of something he explains is to help the pain. The ache that’s clutching his belly and lower ribs is quickly dissolved back to a faded memory, which helps him shut his eyes and rest.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>--</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>When next he wakes up, he feels stronger. Strong enough to push himself up on his arms and rescue himself from the pillows slowly absorbing his body. With a moan of </span>
  <span>effort</span>
  <span> he starts to sit, the sound quickly tainted with pain as he clenches his impaled back and abdominal muscles. Thor must have flattened him after he fell asleep, because there’s a long way up to go.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor is sitting on the other side of the bed, staring at something in his hand, but he quickly turns and slides Steve’s phone back in his pocket as he runs around to still him. He props up the pillows again and presses a hand into Steve’s shoulder. “You look better,” he smiles. “But perhaps a little more rest. Just a little.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve winces and nods his agreement, wrapping his arms around his midsection. He settles as Thor reaches for something on the table. “You okay?” he frowns.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just letting our friends know you’re alright,” Thor reassures, but his posture is troubled, likewise the smile he gives in return as he holds up a cup.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve takes it, and he can actually hold it this time. His fingers brush Thor’s. “You’re shaking...”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>With a heavy, troubled sigh Thor sits on the edge of the bed and tugs on the </span>
  <span>drawstrings</span>
  <span> of his sweater. He forces a smile. “I’m alright.” He takes the empty medicine cup and replaces it with a plate covered in food. “Eat what you can. Then I thought you might like a bath.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>That would be nice. Steve feels like he hasn’t bathed in days, which he supposes is true. “That’d be great,” he agrees. He glances down at the spread of food in his lap. “You </span>
  <span>gonna</span>
  <span> eat too...?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor pauses, looking down at the plate. “I think I will,” he agrees, sitting off the bed and into the chair, which he pulls as close as he can before taking a second plate from the bedside table. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Something is wrong, but Steve can’t figure out what it is. For now, he leaves the issue alone and focuses on his food. He can’t help Thor much if he’s too weak. The sooner he’s out of bed, the better. He looks over at the bedside table as he eats, and spots the hammer Thor called from the sky.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor catches his gaze and stares at it too. “Mjolnir,” he says. “My father gave it to me shortly before the ceremony to officially crown me prince of </span>
  <span>Asgard</span>
  <span> and successor to the throne. It and I have seen many battles together.” He smiles in </span>
  <span>reminiscence</span>
  <span>.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve wishes he could find the words to explain that he’s never seen anything like what Thor did, that he’s never been so awed. His eyes quickly drift from the hammer back to its owner. “Wish I </span>
  <span>coulda</span>
  <span> seen the rest of the battle for myself,” he remarks. “If it weren’t on camera </span>
  <span>I’d’a</span>
  <span> thought I imagined it.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It was very real,” Thor assures, “though something I did not expect...  I doubted if I was w-” He cuts himself off and looks at his plate, licking his lips pensively. “I doubted if it would answer my call again.” He smiles faintly.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve’s not sure he entirely understands the mechanics of what Thor’s talking about, but he knows for absolute certain that Thor is deserving of whatever power he thought he’d lost. “I mean, you were amazing before...” He has to try and pull Thor out of whatever is weighing him down, while he tries to figure out what that thing is. He flicks the last grape off his plate and into Thor’s forehead, a shot Clint would be proud of. “Hey. Try’n’a flirt with you here.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor catches the grape as it falls and looks up apologetically, flushing as his smile widens. “Apologies. You were saying?” Even caught off guard and flustered, the former prince has the presence of mind to reach forward and push the grape between Steve’s lips.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey! Stop it!” Steve swallows the grape, laughing. “You’re better at this than me, we get it. Would’ya give a guy a chance?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Very well,” Thor pulls a grape off his plate, gripping it and pulling with far more deliberation than is necessary. When he leaves the seed behind, his smile becomes a shade more prideful before slipping back to teasing and flustered at once. He nudges the grape between Steve’s fingers. “Go on, your turn.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Flushed with warmth, Steve holds the grape loosely in his mouth, doing his best not to smile as he leans forward and slides his hand around Thor’s neck, drawing the other man closer. Thor puts aside his plate and follows Steve’s guidance, neatly plucking away the grape with his lips and sliding his tongue in to replace it. Steve happily opens his mouth for it, and he’s disappointed when it ends too soon.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Better,” Thor smiles, swallowing his grape. “But I feel you’re trying too hard.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m </span>
  <span>outta</span>
  <span> practice,” Steve scoffs. “</span>
  <span>So</span>
  <span> teach me.” He strokes his hand around the back of Thor’s head and down the side of his face, across his bristled cheeks. “How’s’at?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s good,” Thor clasps the hand and holds it there, leaning down for another kiss. “I’m only teasing,” he rasps into Steve’s mouth. “I’m not certain you could fall short.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Can you blame a guy for </span>
  <span>tryin</span>
  <span>’?” Steve just has to have a taste of Thor’s lower lip before he continues, reaching up with his other hand to grasp the prince’s face. “Look at you.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This is a sexiest sweater you own,” Thor chuckles.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re beautiful,” Steve corrects.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I prefer handsome.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Too bad. You’re getting both,” Steve grins, tracing where the scar ends on Thor’s forehead with his thumb. “You deserve both.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Surely you must think you’re looking in a mirror.” It’s amazing how Thor can be both stunningly handsome in the best way Steve can put it (hot as hell), yet also be capable of such soft warmth.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s unbelievably cheesy,” Steve can’t help a laugh.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m only trying to come down to your level.” Thor turns his head and kisses Steve’s inner wrist. The bristle surrounding his warm lips tickles the sensitive skin there.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah? Well come down a little further,” Steve gently pulls Thor down by his face to meet his, lying back on the pillows. Thor happily comes to him and indulges in maybe the best kiss Steve’s ever had, not that he’s got a huge record, and he’s not sure anyone could hope to top Thor, him being the god of thunder aside. “Whew,” he breathes when he gets the chance. “Talk about magic Asgardian medicine...”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If only that were all it takes,” Thor chuckles, sitting up. “Would you like your bath now?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’d better,” Steve agrees gratefully. ‘Hot and bothered’ isn’t a common term in his </span>
  <span>repertoire</span>
  <span>, but it’s certainly cropping up now. He enjoys the peaceful comfort and the warmth all through his body as Thor gathers empty plates and moves around the room. His friend returns with some folded clothes and offers them timidly. Steve frowns. “For the bath...?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I thought...” Thor starts, swallowing. “Perhaps you would like, um, to cover up.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, oh,” Steve understands. “Sure. I mean, I don’t mind...” He’s probably going to need a hand, and he really doesn’t mind the idea of Thor seeing him naked, but if Thor isn’t comfortable, then that’s that. He takes the robe that’s handed to him and sits off the pillows, folding down the blankets and starting to put it on. The fabric is incredibly soft, unlike anything he’s ever worn. He pushes it down around his hips and makes sure it’s completely wrapped around his body before giving Thor a nod and a smile. His friend comes closer and draws an arm across his sturdy shoulders, steadily helping him turn in bed and sit on the edge.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wishes the robe were a little heavier, because it might do a better job of hiding that he’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>extremely</span>
  </em>
  <span> aroused. Steve flushes and tries to work his hand down to cover it while Thor helps him stand up. Thor has already noticed, and is deliberately looking away, quite red himself as they start the slow walk to the bath.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry...” Steve offers. “Sorry... Didn’t mean to make it awkward.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know,” Thor turns his head around and quite forcefully keeps them on Steve’s eyes. “It’s alright.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I really don’t mind you seeing me naked...” Steve tries. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Yeah, Rogers, that’s fairly obvious...</span>
  </em>
  <span> “I mean... It’s not... Just don’t be worried for my sake, okay?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright,” comes the quiet agreement.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you... is this uncomfortable for you?” Steve tries, desperate to understand whether Thor is being modest for the Captain, or for himself. “Sorry... Didn’t mean to assume... I don’t have a clue what she did to you.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s alright,” Thor calmly placates. “I promise. I’m alright. It’s just... been a while.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Since... since you what?” Steve ventures.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Since, um...” Thor bites his lip. “Since I had... sex. Or been around others naked apart from her. And Thanos.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>For the past hundred years, Thor’s only relationship with physical intimacy and nakedness has been overwhelmingly negative. Steve mulls on that.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s nothing wrong with you,” Thor carries on, giving Steve’s waist a light squeeze of reassurance. “I promise you it’s nothing to do with you at all. It’s not that I don’t find you physically attractive, it’s just that... I’m afraid.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nothing wrong with you, either,” Steve quickly replies. “And if sex is something you never want, that’s fine by me. I uh... I’m a virgin. So... I don’t have any benchmarks.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor frowns with mild confusion. “You’ve never had sex? Not that I considered you frivolous, but... I am mildly surprised, if you’ll excuse me.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve chuckles. “Yeah, I guess it’s a bit surprising. That’s not to say there weren’t people who wanted me, though mostly after the serum. I’m not sure anybody was that interested before. I was a lot smaller then. The only dates I really got were the ones Bucky managed to convince girls to go with me on.” At the sight of Thor’s sympathetic frown he shakes his head. “It’s alright. It was never a priority of mine anyway.” He decides to leave Peggy for another conversation, but even then, their relationship walked the line between fantasy and reality, seeing as they hardly did anything other than share a few hushed words and hidden kisses. War was not in the favor of love, nor were the forties in favor of all types of it. Steve didn’t think much about his sexuality back then anyway, so he supposes it didn’t matter. The ins and outs of it don’t matter now either, because he hopes not to have to go looking for love again.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That would explain why you are hopeless,” Thor notes.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey!” Steve leans his weight a bit harder against Thor’s strong body, knowing that even a strong nudge from Captain America won’t be enough to knock him over.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Which would make me equally the fool,” Thor quickly adds, “for being seduced by it.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I guess we’re even then,” Steve smiles.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Indeed,” Thor cheerfully agrees, dropping his voice into that low range that vibrates through his body into Steve’s, reinvigorating the problem of his body’s urges. He does his best to ignore it and focus solely on walking. It’s a strain, but it’s getting better. With Thor’s help and his wounds not hurting too badly, he’s able to do it.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The bath is sunken into the floor, tiled with marbled stone and full of hot, bubbling water. Everything here is the finest of luxuries, and this is no different. The two of them hang by the edge and stare into the water, hesitant to pull away from each other. Steve’s not sure how steady he is just yet, but he doesn’t want to strip in front of unwilling company.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>In the end, Thor breathes a sigh and keeps a steadying arm around his waist, reaching for the edge of the robe with the other. He looks up. “Is this alright?” he asks.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If it’s okay with you...” Steve frowns. “Don’t do it for me. If you’re not comfortable, that’s that.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I want to be,” Thor draws the robe off Steve’s shoulder. “I want to learn. If it’s alright...”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It really is,” Steve eagerly agrees, though he tries not to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>too</span>
  </em>
  <span> eager. The urge to disrobe as fast as possible is rather new to him, and he won’t let it burn away his better judgement. He does let go of the robe though, and lets Thor brush it off his other shoulder and drop it to the ground. Thor unwraps the bandages and helps him step into the water, easily regulating his descent. It’s boiling hot and immediately starts to unwind his tortured muscles. Steve sits with a sigh, holding his hands lightly over the tender marks in his front. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“May I join you?” Thor’s timid question takes him by surprise.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve looks up and over his shoulder and nods. “If you want to... I won’t look, I promise.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I-it’s alright,” Thor shakes his head, unzipping his sweater and sliding it off. “I trust you. I know in my rational mind that you won’t hurt me.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How you </span>
  <span>feel</span>
  <span> doesn’t have to make sense.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, but this is worth a try,” Thor bravely drops his sweater by Steve’s robe and tugs up his shirt. “It seems a good place to start. Besides, I could use a bath myself.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maybe it is, but Steve wouldn’t know. Thor seems set on his choice though, so Steve doesn’t argue and turns his head away. Respectfully, he refrains from looking until Thor is sitting in the water beside him. He’s seen Thor’s bare shoulders before, after Thor’s first mission with the Avengers, and of course in the apartment bathroom. Actually, he saw pretty much all of Thor that day, though he’s done his best not to think about it for Thor’s sake. Now at least, Thor has willingly shown him his body. Steve remembers the way people stared at him when he first came out of the capsule after the serum did its work, and he imagines those people felt similar to how he feels now: in awe. This is much more personal though, because back then he never had a choice, whereas Thor is offering this solely to him as an act of trust and intimacy. It’s so simple, but it carries with it a weight Steve hopes never to take for granted.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>They look at each other for a moment before Thor slides their bodies together and wraps his arm around the Captain’s shoulders. He gestures to the window overlooking the sky. From here, they’re too high up to see anything but forest and space. It’s the most beautiful landscape Steve’s ever seen. “Wow,” he breathes.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There are views better than this,” Thor says. “On top of the castle. I will show you. Perhaps tomorrow, while we have time.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Time...?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Before we go,” Thor clarifies solemnly. “Though Loki would certainly allow both of us to stay as long as we like, I cannot... I cannot stay here. My father, he... Sometimes he falls into a magical sleep. I wish to leave before he wakes up, just in case. I don’t want to speak with him. Not yet...”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course,” Steve agrees.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If you feel well, of course. We can bring some medicine home for the remainder of your healing,” Thor promises. “I don’t mean to shuffle you out, but I must confess... I’m a little homesick.” He tries very hard to fight that little bashful smile, but it doesn’t work that well. Steve can feel him shaking again through their close contact.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Me too,” he admits. “I miss our friends.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Indeed,” Thor agrees whole-heartedly.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So... does that mean you’re staying?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes,” Thor squeezes, turning away from the view to plant a reassuring kiss into Steve’s forehead. “Of course. If you’ll have me... I’m happy there with you.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Me too,” Steve’s smile is slightly relieved. “Does that mean I get to see what you can do properly this time?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course,” Thor smiles back. “First chance I have, I will show you.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>--</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>After a long while gazing out the window, enjoying each other’s </span>
  <span>company</span>
  <span> and well-being, Thor gets out first. Steve restrains himself from flat-out staring, but he can’t help a fleeting glimpse of Thor’s long, shapely legs sculped in muscle and flecked with scars. He leaves Steve to scrub clean and dresses, walking away to make the bed, and Steve thinks for the entire time about how those legs looked walking out of the bath, how Thor’s calves pulled and swelled with each step.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor is back, dressed in his t-shirt and jeans and holding out his hands. Steve takes them and happily allows his friend to practically lift him out of the tub and wrap him up in a soft towel before guiding him back to bed.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve sits on the edge and dries himself off while Thor prepares some supplies he must have gathered while the soldier was bathing.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How do you feel?” Thor asks, turning in his chair to face him. “You’ve certainly got your color back.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I feel a lot better,” Steve confirms, wrapping the towel around his hips and stretching out so Thor can get a better look at the wounds across his body. “The bath helped.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m glad,” Thor picks up a shallow dish filled with an oily syrup floating with pulpy green leaves. “Is it alright if I...?” he points at the </span>
  <span>three healing</span>
  <span> punctures.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sure thing,” Steve agrees, leaning all the way back on his elbows with a wince. He no longer feels like he’s been impaled, but those wounds are still as deep as deep can go, and they need a few more days to be reduced to surface marks. Actually, the skin over top will probably heal first, leaving a lingering soreness through his core. Again though, the magic of Asgardian medicine has an almost instant effect; Thor smears the warm liquid over his lower ribs and in a generous radius around the highest wound. It feels amazing, even if it stings for a second or two before melting all the aches away. His skin quickly absorbs it, and the medicine soaks right through his muscles and eases any tension the bath didn’t tend to.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>But Thor has gone serious again, focusing intently on his work. Though he rubs with the utmost caution over the wounds, his mind is clearly wandering. Before Steve can ask though, the prince speaks up. “I spoke with Loki while gathering supplies,” Thor says, dipping his fingers back into the mixture and moving on to the second wound. “There is a dinner arranged tonight by my friends. My old friends will be there. And... my mother, probably.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve tips his head, peering into Thor’s eyes while the prince </span>
  <span>purposefully</span>
  <span> concentrates his own gaze on his work. He smears more </span>
  <span>ointment</span>
  <span> onto the final wound with soft circles. “You don’t </span>
  <span>wanna</span>
  <span> go?” he asks.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor shrugs, gesturing for Steve to sit forward. “I should. The people who’ve missed me for a hundred years should know I’m alright. I should at least be able to face my own mother.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Turning so Thor can reach his back, Steve frowns. “You don’t have to do anything.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” Thor sighs, “but I should. I’m just not as they remember. And I’m afraid they’ll ask questions I don’t want to answer.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll come with you,” Steve offers immediately. “At the very least I can get you out if you need it. Loki would too.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I was going to ask you... but are you certain you feel up to it?” Thor wipes his fingers clean and inspects him. “You don’t have to...”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I want to,” Steve insists, turning back around and lifting his arms away from his sides so Thor can wrap the bandage. “I’ll stay close.” If he needs Thor’s help to walk, it’ll be impossible for anyone to separate them and come within the buffer. Steve can always act like he needs a little more help than he does. He doesn’t like attention, but if it redirects even the smallest amount off of Thor, he’s willing to act up.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re too kind to me,” Thor smiles sadly, reaching for the clothes he brought over and unfolding the shirt. It’s a deep red with gold stitching on the sleeves and collar, made of sturdy but comfortable material. The fit is just right. Steve’s not sure he can remember a shirt ever fitting him this well.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s what you do when you care about someone,” Steve argues knowingly. “Besides... you really know how to make a guy feel like a prince in your own castle.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You opened your home up to me,” Thor smiles, unfolding a pair of dark, rich leather pants and getting to one knee. “It seems only fair that I do the same.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Putting my little apartment to shame,” Steve chuckles, lifting his feet off the floor so Thor can help him slide on the borrowed pants. He pulls them up under the towel and drops it, adjusting the waistband around his hips. These fit well too, and they’re very comfortable. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think I prefer your home to mine,” Thor argues and reaches over him for one last item, unfolding a warm, dark chocolate-colored robe that reaches his knees. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You don’t like gold?” Steve draws the robe around himself and looks around as Thor eases him into the chair and picks up a pair of boots from beside the table.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I could take it or leave it,” Thor shrugs. “It’s wonderful for the lighting, but otherwise I don’t care for it.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve lifts his feet one at a time for Thor to put his boots on. They’re made of sturdy leather with shiny silver buckles. “You didn’t like what I was wearing before?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m afraid you might get cold in that dress,” Thor smiles and stands, offering his hands. “</span>
  <span>Asgard</span>
  <span> may be spacious to wander through, but the halls are drafty.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s not a dress,” Steve chuckles, happily draping his arm across Thor’s shoulders.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A very long shirt...?” Thor tries, supporting him as they wander out of the room. “A pillowcase with sleeves.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Close enough,” Steve sighs happily, curious to see what the rest of Thor’s old home looks like. “</span>
  <span>So</span>
  <span> you grew up here, huh?” The gold-plated corridors and archways really are high, and there’s plenty of distance from wall-to-wall. He can almost see a mirror reflection of himself in the floor, and the stone pillars are beautifully carved. It feels like a dream, and with the serum he’s more than capable of imagining something a pencil shaving away from reality. Thor’s warm arm around his waist grounds him though.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I did,” Thor looks around before settling his eyes ahead again. “Strange how a place I spent fourteen-hundred years doesn’t feel like home. I’m not sure when it stopped feeling that way...”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not strange at all,” Steve shakes his head. “My apartment wasn’t much of a home until you moved in.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Surely not right away,” Thor chuckles.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve shrugs. “It was nice to have someone else around. It was definitely an immediate improvement.” He looks up and is rewarded by the red glow of pleasure in Thor’s cheeks and the smile pulling on his lips. It quickly turns serious as they approach the hall though, which is mostly empty aside from the small group clustered around a table covered in food and drink. Among them is a woman in flowing coral robes and gold </span>
  <span>jewelry</span>
  <span>, long copper hair cascading down her back. She’s the first to spot them, looking up from the table she’s standing over. Her face is creased with anxiety, but it breaks as her mouth falls open and her eyes widen. Thor tenses and stalls, immediately starting to shake even before the woman makes her way over and the other four turn, rising from their chairs but hanging back.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thor...” the woman reaches out her hands, tears gathering in her eyes and quickly spilling down her cheeks. “Baby.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>And Thor holds frozen in place, his own eyes welling up at the sight of his mother, but his body still shaking at her approach. He’s not ready for her touch, or the way she scours him with her eyes. She spots his scar immediately, grasping his face, and Thor can’t make himself move, though Steve can feel that he’s tense. It’s not difficult to lean off his friend a bit heavier, and grab at the bottom of his ribs with a wince. Thor is so strong that Steve can basically hang off him without fear of bringing him down, even as the prince quivers. His mild </span>
  <span>exaggeration</span>
  <span> has immediate effect though, dragging attention off Thor and onto himself.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Whether Thor is going along with it, or truly believes that Steve feels so unwell, he responds perfectly, worriedly holding his friend more tightly. His mother draws her attention from her son onto the soldier, blinking away her tears and reaching for him instead. “Oh, darling, come sit down.” She touches his shoulder to guide them both over to the table where the others are waiting.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry,” Steve takes his sweet time, deliberating each step. “Sorry...”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course not,” she shakes her head, steering him right to a chair one of the others pulls out for him. “Not at all.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve doesn’t have to fake the relieved sigh that whooshes out of him when he sits, glad to rest. Despite feeling so much better than even before his bath, he’s still sore and weaker than he’d like. Each of them protective in their own way, Thor guards Steve’s side and nudges their chairs together, and Steve wraps his leg around Thor’s under the table. Food and drink are immediately pushed in his direction, and everyone pauses to stare between them.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Asgardian liquor,” Thor murmurs, pouring some out of a jug and into a new glass. “It’s quite potent.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve swirls it around the glass before taking a curious sip. The burn immediately warms his chest and throat, the flavor unlike anything he’s ever had. That first taste alone is enough to inform him that he could definitely get drunk if he’s not careful. It’s a sensation he hasn’t enjoyed since before the war, with the added benefit of being delicious. Boldly, he takes another mouthful. The sound of the glass setting down on the sturdy wood-carved table is the only occupant in the silence.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor wraps his arm around Steve’s shoulders, an outward display of affection and support, while subtly seeking his own support. The prince rubs his thumb into Steve’s shoulder. “This is Steve,” he says quietly, and his voice bears his tremor. “My good friend. Steve... these are my friends.” He points to them in-turn: “Volstagg, Fandral, Hogan, and Sif. And this is my mother, Lady Frigga.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The group exchange smiles and murmurs of greeting, the air heavy with expectations and questions and fears and relief and </span>
  <em>
    <span>so many</span>
  </em>
  <span> emotions it forms a muddy, heavy cloud over the table, crackling with everyone’s collective need to speak until too much energy has built up and someone needs to say something.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It is good to see you,” Frigga smiles, but she can’t reach her son from her place at the table, with both her son’s arms holding tightly on to Steve. “I missed you. We all did. How are you?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>A simple question, but one Steve can’t imagine is easy to answer. Hell, he’s struggled to think of something more honest than ‘I’m good’ on a normal day, without being too revealing. Thor wipes his eyes and clutches Steve’s arm, holding himself straight to contradict how badly he’s floundering for words. Steve is about to step in and offer something, but Thor very bravely spits out a few shaky words and an impressive smile given the circumstances. “I am well,” he promises. “The battle for Earth was brief.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We would have come, but Loki gave us no warning,” </span>
  <span>Volstagg</span>
  <span> is the first to adopt a cheerful attitude, shaking his head and chuckling behind a full beard as he resumes whatever he was eating before they arrived. “He rather ran off before we had a chance to offer our aid.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But you’re back now,” Sif adds. “</span>
  <span>Asgard</span>
  <span> has missed you on its battlefields, as have we.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>To that, Thor’s smile shrinks mournfully, and he looks down at the table.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But we’re glad you’re alright,” </span>
  <span>Volstagg</span>
  <span> quickly adds, to the enthusiastic nods of the others. “You look well.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor draws his lower lips into his mouth and worries it while he nods slowly, before forcing himself to straighten out again. “It is good to see all of you, too.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We should go,” Hogan says, standing up and giving Frigga a respectful nod, then another to Thor, and a final one for Steve. His three companions respectfully follow suit, offering combinations of parting gestures to those remaining. Thor gets smiles of relief, and Steve gets gazes of respect. In a few moments, they’ve gone, and the table feels much smaller inside this great, empty hall. Thor squeezes Steve’s arm even tighter, and hugs him closer.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Across from them, Frigga wipes her eyes and maintains her smile, looking between the two of them before inspecting her son more thoroughly. Her tears quickly resume. “I missed you so much,” he murmurs. “Oh baby... I’m so glad you’re alive.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I missed you too,” Thor croaks.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>For a moment, Steve wonders if Frigga will ask about her son’s eye, or what he’s been doing while he was gone, or </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything</span>
  </em>
  <span> that might lead to his time with </span>
  <span>Thanos</span>
  <span> and the torture he endured, but with a combination of common sense and motherly instincts, she doesn’t. “</span>
  <span>So</span>
  <span> this is your friend,” she says instead, wiping at her tears and trying to stuff them away a second time. “What have the two of you been up to?” Steve can’t imagine how difficult it must be for her to stimulate this cheerful, casual atmosphere, but he admires her immensely for managing it. Thor’s body immediately responds to the decrease of pressure, and his shaking eases, drawing him back from the edge of a panic attack.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Cooking,” Thor replies quietly, but with more confidence. He wipes away the last of his own tears.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Cleaning,” Steve adds with a knowing nod.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He makes a mess,” Thor chuckles lightly. “You would not imagine the chaos he can create in the kitchen, mother. It baffled me since the beginning. Yet he can clean it all away like it never happened.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You use too much soap when you wash the dishes,” Steve scoffs. “We’re always buying the stuff.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Better too much than too little.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Best the right amount!”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But they do get clean.” Thor lifts his chin. “And quite well, I might add.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll agree on that,” Steve smiles. “And you make the most amazing baked potato I’ve ever had.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Frigga rests her hand on her cheek as she listens, a knowing smile tugging on her lips as her tears steadily dry. “You’ve never shown much interest in cooking before, Thor.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I learned from the internet,” Thor proudly replies, giving Steve a squeeze. “And lots of practice.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>So</span>
  </em>
  <span> much practice,” Steve agrees.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Perhaps someday you can cook for me, then,” Frigga says.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Someday,” Thor agrees, and Steve nods. It would be his pleasure to make an apple pie for her. Maybe she can visit one day, but not now. Thor doesn’t look like he’s ready yet for much beyond small talk, and Frigga must be able to tell, because her expression twists with a mixture of pain and apology as she slowly rises from her chair.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“May I...?” she asks, lifting her arms.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ready to collapse with a second’s notice, Steve pays close attention to Thor’s body language, but his friend actually </span>
  <span>lets</span>
  <span> go after a quick squeeze, and stands. The prince clutches the table as he walks around to meet her, and she cautiously approaches him, mindful of his boundaries. She holds out her arms, and allows him to walk into them at his own pace, which he bravely does. With a tight chest, Steve watches them embrace, Frigga giving what her son gives, not wrapping her arms around him until he does.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor holds lightly on for a moment or two before sinking more heavily into her arms. Undaunted, she holds him up and squeezes him back the second he tightens his grip on her. “Oh baby...” she murmurs. “I missed you so much.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How’s father?” Thor whispers into her hair.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Asleep,” she replies calmly, tentatively experimenting with a small rub on his shoulder, but stroking more confidently when her son gives her a squeeze. “Oh sweetheart... We owe you more apologies than can be said in a day.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <span>No</span>
  <span> you don’t,” Thor replies, calm despite the new tears cracking up his voice. “All is well, mother. What’s done is done. No-one should be blamed for it.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Frigga strokes the back of his head. “Were you always this big?” She pulls away to reach for his face, gazing into his eyes. “You’ve grown up so much... I’m so proud of you, and I love you. That won’t ever change.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” Thor blurts, tugging her back into his arms. “I can’t- there are things I cannot tell you. Not today.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s alright,” she reassures, drawing his head onto her shoulder and rocking him a little. “It’s alright, Thor, you don’t have to. Certainly not right now. I’m just glad you’re here, and that you’re alright. I’m glad I got to hold my son again.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll come visit, I promise,” Thor whispers. “I just need some time.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course,” Frigga agrees understandingly. “Thor, of course. I love you very much, regardless of what you choose to tell, or not tell. Nothing will change how much I love you.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>With that, Thor drops his weight onto her and pushes his face into her hair, shaking with quiet sobs as his mother rubs the back of his head. Frigga looks over at Steve and offers her hand with a welcoming smile and a gesture. Eagerly, Steve stands and limps along the edge of the table, joining in with the hug. Frigga pulls him in, and he adds his arms to the bundle, </span>
  <span>burying</span>
  <span> his head against Thor’s shoulder.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>--</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Weary, both of them gravitate toward the bed. Thor wipes his eyes and steers Steve toward the chair first instead, kneeling to take off his boots.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m proud of you,” Steve breaks the silence, smiling fondly down at Thor as the prince helps him get undressed.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“As I’ve heard quite a lot recently,” Thor replies quietly, working off the robe before aiding Steve to sit on the edge of the bed. He grabs the shirt to untuck it from the pants, looking up for permission. Steve nods.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe it’s because you deserve it,” the soldier reasons gently, bending his arms to get them through the sleeves. Thor pulls it off and helps him lie down. Again, Steve nods toward his pants. “If you’re okay with it,” he invites.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I suppose I should keep up the streak of improvement,” Thor smiles dryly.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I won’t be any less proud of you if you decide you’re not okay with that,” Steve moves his leg away before Thor can grab the hem of his pants. “It’s just as brave to admit you’re not ready for something and take care of your own needs as it is to face your fears.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It would be easier to face them if I knew what they were...” Thor admits with a small sigh as he pensively wraps his hand around Steve’s ankles. “I have nothing to be afraid of. Not you, certainly. Myself, I think... and the memories. She would always have me on my back, and she would always strip me. I don’t want to find myself </span>
  <span>mimicking</span>
  <span> anything that she did to me on you.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Actions are like words,” Steve reasons. “Contexts often gives them meaning. She took off your clothes to hurt you. I know you’re doing it to help me. If you’re worried about doing something to me that she did to you... can you trust that I’ll tell you if I’m uncomfortable?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I trust you,” Thor blurts immediately. “I trust you.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And </span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> trust </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Steve insists. “We’ll find a way to make it work, okay? Whatever needs to happen, we’ll find a way to make us both happy.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What makes you happy?” Thor grabs the soldier’s other ankle, peering into his eyes in earnest search of answers, with his body leaned forward with readiness.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Being here with you,” Steve smiles honestly. “Being close. You give good hugs.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You reminded me how,” Thor smiles back and looks down at Steve’s feet. He slides his fingers under the fabric and starts to pull on the pants. Steve shuffles his hips as they’re worked down to his thighs, then the prince slides them right off and folds them neatly with everything else on the chair, deliberating over every fold. Finally, he pivots slowly around and approaches the bed, allowing himself to take in all of Steve’s body. He comes close and slides his arm under Steve’s head, cradling him and placing his other hand lightly on the soldier’s chest. “Is this alright?” he asks.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Steve agrees softly.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor’s rough hands feel so good on his smooth skin; the prince slides his hand over and cups a handful of chest muscle, drawing circles around the nipple with his finger. “How about that...?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh yeah...” A shiver travels down his spine and he sighs, breathing out more forcefully than intended and his body starting to turn pink. Satisfied with the effect, Thor strokes down and rubs the nipple with his thumb, teasing the sensitive skin. “O-oh...”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor smiles teasingly, but he doesn’t stop, maintaining rhythmic sweeps then continuing on the other side. “Really, Captain?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Skin’s’sensitve,” Steve breathes. “Can’t help it... s’serum...”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Pleased, Thor applies more pressure. “Still alright...?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh huh...”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How about this?” Thor leans over and lightly rests his hand over Steve’s wrapped belly, opening his mouth to take the nipple between his lips. The bristle touches first, teasing the particularly sensitive skin before Thor’s lips and tongue ever reach. But when they do, it’s warm and pleasant. Steve can’t help that his affirmation of his continued consent comes out a little more like a yelp than he intended. Perhaps it’s the surprise that draws the sound from him, but it does feel amazing in a way he’s never experienced. He’s never had someone treat his body like this, with such care and precision. Thor might be out of practice with all this, but his natural instincts must be kicking in, because he knows just what to do with that nipple in his mouth. He lays Steve back against the pillows as he rolls his tongue around it, a smile playing at his lips at the noises Steve can’t help but make.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor swaps sides again, leaving the first tingling. As Thor applies more immediate confidence to his ministrations, Steve digs his shoulders into the mattress and wraps his hand around the back of Thor’s head. He kneads the prince’s short hair with his fingers, grabbing and needy.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>It might not have been much of anything, not in terms of sexual acts, but it was plenty, the pleasure amplified by the surprise and novelty of it. Thor’s good, too, and he looks immeasurably happy and sure of himself. It’s a look Steve can’t deny is incredibly arousing, and though that spurs his curiosity to find out what </span>
  <em>
    <span>else</span>
  </em>
  <span> Thor can do to other parts of his body, he allows himself to be satisfied simply with this. Even if they never go beyond this, that’s fine. Both of them </span>
  <em>
    <span>are</span>
  </em>
  <span> happy, so there’s no need to play below the belt, ever. If Steve dies a virgin, he won’t feel the slightest bit of regret or bitterness. Even though Thor has released his other nipple to tingle with the other, he still gives, kissing up the muscle, up Steve’s neck, tickling under the soldier’s chin and behind his ear with his bearded lips.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Finally, Thor wanders his way over to Steve’s lips and kisses them, then expertly moves his way in when Steve once again happily invites the prince into his mouth. Deftly, Thor finds the soldier’s hand and holds it against the pillow, lacing their fingers while he kisses. Steve is usually the willing participant, welcoming Thor to do what he wants, but today he gives back more than usual, and Thor lets him, offering him the room to steer. Upon invitation, Steve applies some more strength into his advance.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>They enjoy some more savored moments of intimacy before Steve pulls apart their lips and holds Thor’s head against his, catching his breathe.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I love you very much,” Thor says quietly. “I want you to know that. I do want to have sex with you, one day. But not today...”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s okay,” Steve promises. “What just happened was pretty good... Even if we never go past there, that’s alright with me. That felt pretty good.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you certain...?” Thor’s eyebrows are already upturned when he draws their forehead apart to make better eye contact. “This does not seem fair to you...”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You make me feel good in lots of other ways. That one seems like it should come last. Someday I think I’d like that too, but when, or if, you’re ready. Lots of other reasons to love you other than the magic you can do with your mouth. Besides,” he delivers one last confident kiss to Thor’s lightly-parted lips, “we have to both enjoy it, right? And I won’t enjoy it if you aren’t happy.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor takes a moment to think about that before shutting his eyes and slowly leaning down on Steve to hug him tightly. A pair of nocturnal birds since to each other as they fly by the window, then swoop back again.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eventually it’s Thor who starts to pull away, pink with pleasure and dopey-eyed, mirroring how Steve feels. “You must be tired,” Thor murmurs. “How are your wounds? Do you require more medicine?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve is about to say he’s fine, but he sighs instead and shifts on top of the blankets with a wince. “Bit sore,” he admits, and though it’s bearable, he decides not to argue against taking something to help and take advantage of the chance to be fully without pain.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright,” Thor smiles, taking the cup from the bedside table and offering it. He slides a supporting hand behind Steve’s back so he can drink, then lowers him when the medicine is gone. As the remainder of his aches blur into the background, the weakest whisper compared to the previous </span>
  <span>incessant</span>
  <span> nagging, Steve lays back and drearily watches Thor move around the room. The prince gathers a pair of pants from his drawer and brings them over, sliding them onto the soldier and dragging the blankets from under him. Then he sheds his sweater, shirt, and shoes, and slides into bed too. Immediately, Steve opens his arm to draw Thor against his side, and Thor drapes an arm across the soldier’s bare chest, resting his head on Steve’s shoulder. With a contented sigh, Thor settles.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>--</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Have you ever flown before, Captain?” Thor asks that morning on the balcony, his smile a mix of sly and excited.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If you count free-fall, then yes.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor opens his arm and pulls Steve against him by the waist. “I suggest you hang on.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve wraps both arms around Thor’s neck, and the prince in-turn hangs on to him, too, opening his other hand. Mjolnir leaps off the ground and straight into his palm. In a few seconds, the hammer is spinning so fast it’s a blur and Thor throws it upward, ripping them both off the ground.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>This is not dissimilar to free-fall, but it’s certainly not identical. For one, it’s faster, and two, Steve has no control. Even in free-fall he can angle his body and glide somewhat, but this is all in Thor’s hands, and he loves it. They go up and up until they reach the top of the palace, where Thor expertly slowly their trajectory and lightly steps down. All of </span>
  <span>Asgard</span>
  <span> is stretched out before them, the city and the rainbow bridge one way, and the forest in the other. The way </span>
  <span>Asgard</span>
  <span> is suspended seems impossible, just like it’s very beauty. Steve’s never seen anything so beautiful in all his life. He’s never seen colors like these, or forests that stretch back into misty galaxies as if obscured by morning fog. And the </span>
  <em>
    <span>lights</span>
  </em>
  <span>...</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wow...” he breathes finally, still hanging onto Thor, not wanting to enjoy this for a second without having his friend close. He has no other words, nor does he search for them.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Indeed,” Thor smiles.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>With the serum, Steve can remember past events like they’d been recorded, and he takes extra deliberation to commit this panorama to memory. “Thank you,” he says, keeping his voice low so as not to ruin the serenity.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He prepares himself for another light argument about what each of them deserves, about what’s the least either of them can do, and what’s not nearly enough to repay what’s been given from the other party – but Thor just smiles this time and holds him. “You’re welcome,” he replies in a matching tone, nuzzling Steve’s forehead and kissing his temple. “Shall we see some more?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Oh yes. This is the chance of a lifetime. Steve happily clings to Thor, and the prince happily takes flight once more. They shoot toward the stars, then fall down past the palace toward the forest. Thor slows their descent, and at the last few meters scoops under Steve’s knees, landing with a thud in the underbrush. They’ve landed at the edge. Thor sets Steve to his feet and leaves his hammer on the ground, taking the soldier’s hand and leading him into the wilderness.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Asgardian forest is full of trees similar to what he’s seen on Earth, but upon closer inspection Steve can see that the patterns in the bark are much different. The birds, too, are similar, but he spots one in the treetops with a bright blue head and golds streaks in its feathers. There aren’t any trails, but there’s enough space to walk without a face-full of leaves at every turn. Many of the trees are taller than any Steve’s ever seen, sporting thick leaves that dance in the gentle breeze. Some are smaller, like the </span>
  <span>birch</span>
  <span>. It’s wild, quiet except for everything the forest itself sings. It seems like forever since Steve’s seen a deer, and when one happens to wander across their path, they both stop to watch it graze on lichen and berries. Neither of them </span>
  <span>moves</span>
  <span>, and it carries on by, unbothered by their presence. When the deer moves on and disappears into the forest, they start to walk again.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This is really nice,” Steve murmurs, swinging their arms a little.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor hums in agreement. “I wanted to show you this before we go. I must ask that we return home as soon as possible.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Everything okay?” Steve frowns at him.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sadly, Thor drops his head. “I have not been sleeping well,” he admits quietly. “This place isn’t home.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You should have woken me,” Steve stutters, concerned.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor smiles faintly. “You were deeply asleep. You needed the rest. It’s alright.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’ll go home today, then,” Steve agrees. “Thanks for showing me around... You didn’t have to.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course,” Thor smiles softly. “Out here it’s easy to forget where I am... And it’s safe, with you. Besides, I can manage a little longer for your smile.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Now who’s tryin’ too hard?” Steve laughs, warm despite the cool shade the forest provides.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Pink himself, Thor chuckles too. “I thought I’d meet you half-way.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve scoffs. “I’m not </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> bad.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You do kiss very well,” Thor admits. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Should we wait out here for a full moon then, and kiss in a beam of light?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A sunset would be perfectly sufficient.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve laughs again, a hearty laugh from the depths of his chest and his recovered lungs. He has more than enough strength to carry on this walk for as long as Thor wants.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>When his friend breathes a shaky sigh, he looks up worriedly, but Thor is smiling. “I can hardly believe it’s over...” he says, squeezing Steve’s hand. “I hadn’t been truly happy in so long... Now she’s gone. It feels almost like a dream.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m really proud of you,” Steve smiles. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“As you’ve said.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And I’ll keep saying it, even when you start to believe me,” the Captain assures confidently. “Besides, lots more chances for me to be proud of you in the future. Be prepared for me to be proud of you for those, too. It’ll all just add up.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Those are high standards,” Thor remarks.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t expect you to be perfect,” Steve shakes his head. “I just expect you to be you. You’ve been doing a pretty good job of that so far. Keeping fighting, keep doing your best, like you always have.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It may not be easy...” Thor’s eyebrows upturn with worry and </span>
  <span>apprehension</span>
  <span>.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’ll cross those bridges when we come to them,” Steve reassures. “And we’ll both look after each other. So far we’ve been doing a decent job at that...”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That we have,” Thor agrees.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Not long later, Thor summons Mjolnir to him and flies them out of the trees and back toward the palace. He gathers some supplies, says goodbye to his brother, his mother, and his friends, leaving behind a promise to return in the future. He even asks Loki to let him know when Odin wakes. Hugs, handshakes, and waves are delivered accordingly, everyone respecting Thor’s boundaries. They let him reach out first, and they extend their warm wishes to Steve, too. Frigga leaves Thor’s arms and gives him a hug and a thank-you whispered in his ear. When Thor and Loki are finished embracing and speaking to each other, they pull apart, Thor putting his hands in the pocket of his sweater, a light smile on his face while Loki walks proudly over to Steve and smooths his robes.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The King of </span>
  <span>Asgard</span>
  <span> offers a firm hand and a gaze of respect and gratitude. “Captain,” he says. “I wish you well. Perhaps we will meet again, even fight again together.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Perhaps,” Steve agrees, shaking the hand. “Earth owes you one.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And </span>
  <span>Asgard</span>
  <span> owes you a hundred,” Loki replies sternly. “Look after my brother.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Planning on it,” Steve salutes. “Couldn’t talk me out of it.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Loki smiles. “Farewell, Steve.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor’s family waves them goodbye, and they fly away from the castle and over the city, over the rainbow bridge, and down to the bi-frost. A tall, stoic-looking man calmly slides the biggest sword Steve’s ever seen into a sheath in the floor, nodding his own silent goodbye. The bi-frost turns, the door slides shut, and the portal bursts open. Thor offers his hand, which Steve gladly takes, and together they step into the rainbow light, and fall back to Earth, back home.</span>
  
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0026"><h2>26. Chapter 26</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Well gang, here we are. We've reached the end. This chapter contains sex, and with a little more detail than usual (guess who remembered lube this time!!). Again, I try not to be too gratuitous, but I thought it served the story. I also know that some of you enjoy to read that :)</p>
<p>I have some parting notes at the end, but for now I will leave you with that, and hope you enjoy! Thank you &lt;33</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>
    
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maybe </span>
  <span>Thanos</span>
  <span> is coming, but for now, they’re together. The second they’re home, Thor immediately relaxes. As they walk into the tower to meet their waiting friends, they’re met with smiles and hugs. The other Avengers make fun of Steve’s outfit, of course, but it’s all to cover up the lingering trauma of what they witnessed him go through. Natasha in particular hugs him tight.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, JARVIS, get me the usual order up here,” Tony grins. “Team’s back together. That deserves a celebration.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve looks over at Thor, his mouth already open in preparation to explain that he’s tired, and needs some more rest, but Thor is grinning back and nodding. </span>
  <span>So</span>
  <span> they join in, and Steve takes off his jacket but keeps the rest of the outfit Thor’s given him. It’s comfortable, and he has to admit the style suits him. Besides, Thor insisted.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>They fill the living-room with food and sit down for a round of video games. Thor plops right beside Steve on the sofa and wraps an arm around him, completely at ease as he joins in with the games, removing that arm only as long as he needs to hold a controller. He engages in conversation, his chest evenly expanding against Steve’s throughout the evening. With Midnight gone, and the impending completion of the portal resolved, their normal team routine feels that extra layer of peaceful. The team parties until late in the evening.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>When it’s time to go home, Steve changes into some more normal clothes, folding his Asgardian outfit into a bag to bring back with him. They don their ball caps, and walk back to the apartment.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s just as they left it, except for the phonograph and his shield sitting on the kitchen table. Someone must have returned them from the hospital. Steve goes right to their bedroom to put his stuff away and change into some sweats, and Thor follows along.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Welcome home,” Steve smiles. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor’s grin is massive as he runs into Steve’s arms and hoists the soldier right off his feet, spinning him in a circle and setting him down. They hold each other for a quiet minute, content and relaxed, free of burden for the time being. All they have is what’s to come, and the future looks pretty good. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>--</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Six months later.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The team can all agree that Thor is an incredible addition. He was before, but with Mjolnir he can do a lot more. He can fly, crush obstacles with the power of the Hulk, and call upon a lightning storm to destroy large numbers of hostiles. Despite his newly-recovered power, Thor still makes an excellent stealth agent, with the strength to break into places not even Steve can, and a skill for infiltration that rivals Natasha’s. Even though he’s cast aside the chains of </span>
  <span>Thanos</span>
  <span>, he still puts his skills to good use.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tony makes them both new suits. Comfortable to take up his colors again, Steve happily puts on what his friend makes him. It’s a deeper shade of blue than his other suit, made of stronger, thicker material. It’s more comfortable, too. But in the end, it bears the same motif: the stars and stripes.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Even though Thor technically does have a suit, one that he can change into with just a flash of lightning, Tony still makes him something good for those stealthier missions. Thor seems to like his cape, but he likes what Tony makes him just as much. It’s largely made of the same blue fabric that Steve’s is, using the same dark red for the patches on the shoulders reminiscent of that glorious cape. A master of design, Tony adds six dull-white strips placed where the circles on Thor’s armor were. Of course, as he prefers, Thor’s arms are left bare. Tony even makes him two brand-new knives and sheathes, which Thor prefers not to use in battle, but will if necessary. Sometimes they make </span>
  <span>better weapons</span>
  <span> than Mjolnir, in some cases.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Side-by-side, Steve and Thor match. The soldier doesn’t completely notice it until they’re getting suited up in the same changing room one day together. More and more, Thor is more comfortable with changing around him, not so hesitant to remove clothes, and less hasty to put them on. He’s still cautious, still working through his fears, but he’s getting better. He’s happier, looser, open with his affection and more willing to laugh and joke with the others. They welcome him into their fold without hesitation, and that helps. Actually, Thor seemed much more at comfortable immediately after the whole hospital incident. Steve decides that ordeal was worth it just for that. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>On the battlefield, Thor finds his place with ease. He follows orders, and he supports his team, helping and protecting them through each and every battle. What was once a gift for solely Steve to enjoy, is now something that the others are given glimpses of: Thor’s gentle hand, his compassion, his attention to detail, and his soft heart. He offers his aid after a fight, and more often than not, they’ll accept. Tony, the self-sufficient, ‘I-have-the-right-to-pass-out-in-my-lab-because-I-was-too-stupid-to-see-a-doctor', </span>
  <span>stubborn</span>
  <span> Tony, can’t turn down Thor soft eyes and upturned eyebrows asking if he wants some </span>
  <span>Tylenol</span>
  <span> and a blanket. Stoic Natasha let him carry her once. Bruce has fallen asleep in Thor’s arms after a Hulk-out, and Clint has walked right up to him and held out his arm for Thor to tuck himself under. But it goes both ways: the others protect Thor in battle too, even the Hulk, who has batted Thor away from one or two explosions (Steve too, who happened to be in the middle of trying to either shove Thor away from it, or raise his shield to protect them). Nobody is forgotten or left out.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve might be a little jealous, but seeing how happy it makes Thor to give his all to his new team just as they all do makes him happy too. And besides, he always gets Thor to himself when the battle is over. They cuddle on the sofa to eat with the team, and they cuddle at home in the apartment. They kiss, sometimes other places than the mouth, and take care of each other in those private moments. Steve promises not to hide or downplay if he’s been hurt, so long as Thor wakes him up if he’s not sleeping well. Thor seems quite triumphant about that, and his face says he counts it as his win.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor brought medicine and alcohol from </span>
  <span>Asgard</span>
  <span>, which means that when Steve takes a hit on a mission, he’s got something to ease his pain. Usually, all he needs is a sip or two to get him through the roughest parts. He can’t help but admit that he’s grateful not to have to suffer the full brunt of having his shoulder popped back in, or a particularly painful knife gash stitched shut. For the most part, everything is fairly minor, because the team works so well together. Mistakes happen, of course, but usually injuries are caused by the person’s own self-sacrificing stupidity, and the rest of the team being too slow to stop them. Steve isn’t the only one who gets caught doing foolish things, but he always comes out of it, and he always has his friends to chastise him for it. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Once strange property of Asgardian </span>
  <span>physiology</span>
  <span> seems to be that morphine is incredibly effective, which means that Thor gets his own relief when he needs it. It’s not often, given how much more durable he is, second only to the Hulk, but sometimes even his tough skin can be broken. Steve is the only one who knows any details about what Thor endured under Thanos, but the others are smart enough to leave them space when it comes time for any sort of treatment to be given. They bring food and drink and show their care in many ways, one of which being to give the pair space while Steve administers treatment to a cut or a burn. Once, he simply set up the morphine drip and kept watch while Thor slept off the worst of his wounds, his body healing so fast that Steve could actually see his skin closing and bruises melting.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>On quiet days, they run. Thor’s decided to keep his shorter hair, which Steve happily trims for him every once and a while. More often than not, Thor will join Steve for his morning training sessions with Natasha, occasionally joining in during a lesson, or when it’s over. One of Steve’s favorite times is being alone with Thor to practice sparring. Even without sex in their lives, there are so many ways to find sexual pleasure from each other. It always gives him enjoyable chills to be thrown around on the matts by Thor’s capable hands. They engage in lighter activities too; their incessant cooking and baking doesn’t stop, and it’s common for them to bring their latest experiment with them to the next team gathering. Nobody complains. Sometimes in the evening, they enjoy each other’s bodies without ever having to take off their pants. They always build up to it, mutual looks quickly becoming questions, before soon both of them are in bed, and Thor is doing something entirely wonderful with his mouth. One day, Steve feels brave enough to offer that he could return the favor, and a little shaky but willing, Thor agrees.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He lies on the couch propped a bit to his side to avoid lying flat on his back, and Steve goes as slow as he can, step-by-step, starting with his hands. He doesn’t move them below the belly, even as Thor relaxes as much as he can into the experience. It doesn’t go much beyond gentle caresses and a few kisses before Steve decides on his own that he’s not going to try any further. Thor seems to enjoy the simple act of Steve’s fingers tenderly tracing the lines of his upper body, around muscle and bone and old scars. For now, that’s all he wants, and he’s happy, so Steve is too. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The farther Thor becomes comfortable with, the more apparent it becomes that arousal is difficult for him. For the past hundred years, all his pleasure has been forced and coerced, so his body isn’t so willing to express it on its own. It’s also the first time in a long time since he’s engaged in physical intimacy without being drugged. When or if Thor decides he’s ready for sex, doesn’t mean his body will cooperate. It might take a lot longer for him to recover, and maybe it never will. That realization comes from another long discussion full of apologies and reassurances to counter them. Steve’s body displays arousal, but Thor’s doesn’t, something Steve is always reassuring is alright. What they enjoy is good, and it’s enough. It’s perfect. Thor has already made huge progress in the space of six months by welcoming Steve gradually further into their physical relationship. The rest of their relationship, too: sometimes, Thor will tell him more about what happened on </span>
  <span>Thanos</span>
  <span>’ ship, about what Thanos and the Children said and did to him, and together they uncover the end of a new thread that needs unravelling.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s going to be a long process. Some threads are longer and more knotted than others. Some threads are woven so tightly together it’s hard to know which one to start with, but with the start of one comes the loosening of others, and they’re working on it. Just like he predicted, Steve gets new reasons to be proud all the time, which he’s vocal about. Annoyingly, Thor told him, despite his pleased smile.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bravely, Thor asks if they can invite his mother round soon, and Steve agrees eagerly. It’s a lot sooner than he expected, and Thor seems nervous, but determined. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>With only a day before his mother is due to arrive, Thor admits that he wants to tell her what happened, some of it at least. He looks on the verge of a panic attack, shaking so badly at the very idea that he can hardly walk. They sit, they talk, Thor writes her a letter with Steve’s help, and then he crawls into the shower and stays there for a long time. When they go to bed that night, there’s no chatting, no kissing – Thor just huddles in the Captains arms as Steve strokes his hair, and listens. Steve talks. He talks about how proud he is, then moves on to stories of the war, and the Depression with Bucky. He tells stories about his youth spent picking fights too big for him, and about some of his most glorious battles of World War Two. Thor huffs a laugh or two at grandiose description of blowing up Nazis and some of the Howling Commandos’ most ludicrous plans.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Frigga comes over. She arrives at the apartment in a blue spring dress, her hair loose around her shoulders, instantly remarking on how good it smells. They laugh about the mess Steve is halfway through cleaning up, and they enjoy an evening of light conversation over good food. She asks about both of them, about what they’ve been up to, all with a knowing glint in her eye. She doesn’t need to ask to know what they are, and it’s not awkward or a surprise for Steve to drop a kiss onto Thor’s head as he passes behind to gather dirty dishes, or for Thor to put an arm around him when desert is finished and they sit in the living room to continue their conversations over coffee.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eventually it comes time for one of the hardest things Steve’s ever had to watch a person do, and he knows Thor’s preparing to do it because his body starts to tremble and his voice stammers as he continues the story about the deer they saw running that first time together. Steve gets up, offering to pick up some more snacks from the store. He takes the long way, walking slowly there and buying himself a drink to enjoy on a park bench for a little while. He keeps his phone on his lap just in case, but doesn’t receive any messages. He gives it a couple hours before walking back home.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>When he gets in, he’s ready to go to his room and leave them be for as long as they need, but all is well. Thor is there, his mother at his side, talking in a quiet voice while she holds him. The letter is left unopened on the couch arm, and both their faces are streaked with tears, but they’re chatting about something enjoyable, chuckling wearily, but without the burden of untold secrets. Steve smiles and pads into the kitchen to make more hot drinks. When he brings them out, Thor immediately opens his arm to gather Steve against his other side, and they all sit there to drink. Whatever needed to be done, is done, at least with regard to Thor’s mother.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Apparently</span>
  <span>, his father is awake. Thor explains this once his mother has left with the letter.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There is so much to say... a lifetime’s worth,” Thor murmurs. “I do not know where I would begin, or how I feel. I cannot resent him, yet part of me does.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>There’s no clear-cut answer, but at least Thor has the freedom to think about it without fear of being confronted before he’s ready. With Loki still holding the title of </span>
  <span>Allfather</span>
  <span>, Odin has no power to arrive unexpectedly. </span>
  <span>Apparently</span>
  <span> he’s not in much shape to try to come on his own anyway.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I should see him, at least,” Thor sighs. “I am his son, and I know that he loves me, even if we have not seen eye to eye, and even if mistakes have been made. I know he mourned me.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There’s still time,” Steve reassures. “And I’ll always be there.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you.” Thor smiles. “I know you will. I could not have done this without your help or Loki’s. Or the team, though they may not know how much...”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Talking to Odin is tabled for the time being, but talking to his mother has helped. Whatever conversation they had did Thor some good, and Steve is immensely grateful for her wisdom and love. Steve suggests they invite his mother over more often, his brother too, and Thor is on-board. He needs his family to help him heal, just like he needs the team.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Another six months go by. Thor gradually allows Steve to do more and more, to kiss his chest and stomach and just above his waistband. The transition is gradual, as always, and blatantly, repeatedly consensual. Every step is preceded by a question. Thor starts to accept the more exploratory kisses he’s already built up to giving Steve. It’s easier for him to allow access to parts of his body Midnight didn’t tend to, but it still takes some working up to. But when they get there, when Thor is comfortable to lie on his back and let Steve sit beside him to kiss across his body and attend both nipples one at a time with the care Steve himself receives, Thor’s pleasure shows in his eyes, if not in other places. He makes deep, beautiful noises with his throat, especially when they progress and Steve finds a sweet spot on his lower back that makes the prince’s muscles ripple with each moan of pleasure those strategically-placed kisses illicit. Steve likes to walk his fingers up Thor’s spine, then draw them back down, and that too creates wonderful effects.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Each time gets easier. Thor becomes less scared and more willing, even though they eventually reach a place where they stop moving physical boundaries. Everything remains above the belt for both of them. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>That doesn’t last forever, and when that changes suddenly, it takes Steve by surprise. Their bedroom relationship has been steady and enjoyable and satisfying for both of them, so he hasn’t considered it progressing from there for a while. But one day they come home from a team gathering after a fight, and Thor is suddenly blurting it out like it surprises even him. “Can we have sex?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve nearly drops his shield case. “Th-Thor... Are you sure? I mean...” his </span>
  <span>face</span>
  <span> is already flushing red.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is it alright?” Thor asks, flustered and confused. But he looks... willing.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Y-yes,” Steve shakes his head and puts down his shield, resting it against the couch. “Yeah, it’s okay... but are you really sure? You don’t have to do it for me-”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I want to,” Thor assures. “If you want to...”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I want to,” Steve agrees, walking closer as Thor starts to back toward their room, both of them starting for zippers and buttons. They’re on the bed before they’re fully undressed, tripping over pant legs and throwing their shirts on the floor. “H-how do you want to do this?” Steve asks, sliding off his underwear. “Um...” He’s not sure where to start.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Perhaps the light...?” Thor kicks off his socks as he gets up again, shutting the door and turning off the light. Steve flicks on the lamp so they can at least sort-of see. The prince approaches the bed, entirely naked and turned unconsciously just a little, as if to protect himself.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What do you want to do?” Steve asks. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>knows</span>
  </em>
  <span> the ways they can do this, but words are </span>
  <span>eluding</span>
  <span> him.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I just don’t want to be on the bottom,” Thor breathes. “That is all I know...”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay,” Steve agrees, getting comfortable to solidify his place here on his back.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“One more thing,” Thor turns rather suddenly and walks around the bed to the nightstand, opening the drawer and sheepishly pulling out a tube of something.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s that?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Lube.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Of course.” Steve agrees. Yes, of course.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I almost forgot myself,” Thor smiles bashfully in the dim light, crawling across the sheets and kneeling beside Steve before popping open the lid. “Luckily it was easy to find. Your people make some rather interesting sexual products... Curiosity very nearly got the better of me.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah... and that’s just at the drug store. Don’t tell the others about this or they’ll find the craziest stuff they can at the adult store. I don’t suppose you know what a vibrator is...”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can take a wild guess.” Thor replies, staring between the opening of the tube and his open palm. “I suppose...”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you want to do it...? Or should I?” Not that Steve knows how to apply that stuff, but surely it can’t be too hard. So long as he uses enough. Can you use too much? </span>
  <span>Somehow</span>
  <span> he doubts it. Maybe he should have googled this beforehand, and he probably would have with a little more warning.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You seem uncertain,” Thor tips his head, though Steve can see that the tube is shaking in his hand, and he’s completely unaroused while Steve is already there.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Never done this before,” Steve smiles apologetically. “It’s not something we talking about much in the forties, and I never asked. To be honest I don’t know how you’re supposed to do this.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s very simple,” Thor assures, sitting up as straight as he can as if to inspire confidence in himself by displaying it outwardly. It doesn’t fool Steve; he can see his friend is terrified. But Thor goes ahead and squirts some lube into his hand, then he looks down at himself, then across to Steve, then back to his palm.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you want to... to go... in? Or me?” Steve doesn’t have to ‘bottom’ just because he’s physically on the bottom. “Or I can... with my hand? If that’s okay... we can start however, build up like we always do. As slowly as we need to. You do what you need to, and we’ll figure it out.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think...” Thor frowns at his palm, fixated on it as if it’ll somehow give him answers. He swallows forcefully. “I don’t know.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay... well how about we do what we normally do?” Steve suggests. “How about a kiss.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor nods and sets down the lube, but pauses and looks at his hand.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just wipe it on me,” Steve offers, and Thor smears the glob off onto Steve’s abs with a frown of apology. When he comes in for the kiss, it’s less confident than it usually is. Patiently, Steve encourages, stroking the back of Thor’s head as he searches inside the prince’s mouth. He draws back a little, and Thor tentatively follows, so Steve fully invites him in. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>That’s the start of Thor’s returning confidence. Finding his rhythm, Thor kisses back, laying his hand across Steve’s breast and starting to knead the muscle with his palm. Immediately, Steve responds, gasping around Thor’s lips as the other man starts to tease his nipple.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor swaps hands and releases Steve’s lips, smiling at the yelp he deftly </span>
  <span>elicits</span>
  <span>.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Better,” Steve shivers. “Kay... you...?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright,” Thor holds his torso a little closer, and Steve wraps his arm around the other man’s back to drag his fingers to the small of his back where that sweet spot is. He draws Thor down for another kiss with his other hand, encouraging their bodies to press together. Slowly, Thor lowers himself until their hips are flush. Both of them are on the large side, and to be rubbing together like that feels... interesting. It’s not much of anything, but it’s contact, and that alone makes Steve wonder what it’ll feel like if they get beyond this.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>For </span>
  <span>now</span>
  <span> he can feel that Thor is struggling, that he’s turned on but not aroused. Steve can see in his eyes that he’s enjoying this, can see a flush rising in his cheeks, but other parts of Thor’s body aren’t yet responding. If Midnight hadn’t drugged him, Steve would suggest they look for medicine of some sort to help, but as things </span>
  <span>are</span>
  <span> he doesn’t dare. Besides, if Thor’s not ready, then he’s not ready. End of.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve lets go of Thor’s back to drag his knuckles across a nipple. “How’s that?” he murmurs.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <span>S’good</span>
  <span>,” Thor shivers with enjoyment, opening his eyes to reveal that his pupils are blown out. “But I... I can’t... I </span>
  <em>
    <span>had it,</span>
  </em>
  <span> yesterday, when you were training... There was... I watched you, and I felt... something.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What was I doing? I can do it again...” Steve offers immediately. “What do you want? I’ll do it.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor smiles a little and shakes his head. “You were... just stretching. At the beginning, with Natasha. Bending, twisting... slow, balanced... I liked it.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Serum makes me bendy,” Steve agrees with a grin. “You want slow and balanced?” He sits up on his arm and runs his knuckles up the groove in Thor’s abs, all the way up his throat, then back down again. He’s at the perfect angle to tuck his head under Thor’s chin and kiss his throat, tickling Thor’s chin with his mussed hair.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I do not see how balance comes into this...” Thor shivers, a soft groan sliding free. “Steve...”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah?” Steve husks against the vein in the other man’s neck, sucking another kiss. “What do you want me to do? Just tell me.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I want...” Thor shivers again. “I want what you want.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I want you to be happy,” Steve kisses again, a little more forcefully. He moves down and sucks on the smooth lump of Thor’s collar bone at the end of the tendon in his neck. “We can always try something else another day. What do you want today?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Will you... will you go... in?” Thor shudders. “Not sure that I can...”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you </span>
  <em>
    <span>want</span>
  </em>
  <span> to go in me?” Steve asks between kisses. “If that’s what you want, we can keep going until you can.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I want you to take care of me,” Thor’s starting to slip into it now, losing some of his fear and awkwardness as he melts under the kisses and his own imagined ideas. “Please... Please Steve. If... if that’s...”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course,” Steve agrees. “Never done this before, so just tell me if you need something and I’ll do it. If it needs to stop, just say so, and it will right away.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“O-okay,” Thor agrees, and his next shudder contains relief. Steve keeps kissing, gathering up the lube off his belly and rubbing it over himself. He fumbles for the tube, and it takes a couple of goes with his slippery fingers to get the top off, but he manages, squirting out another generous amount and adding it to himself. This can’t be very difficult, not the mechanics of it at least, can it...?</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright,” Steve says in a low voice, tossing the bottle onto the covers out of the way. “Alright, we’ll go slowly.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You may have to...” Thor swallows, his eyes closed as he nuzzles against Steve’s head and holds himself there. “It has been a while. You may have to... prepare me. You’re rather large.” He chuckles lightly.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve chuckles too, making sure his fingers are slicked. “How many?” he asks.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Perhaps start with one,” Thor suggests wisely. “Then we will see.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay,” Steve agrees confidently, guiding Thor’s hips closer with his clean hand. This is the first time he’s done this... what if he does it wrong? What if he causes hurt?</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do not worry yourself,” Thor whispers, even though he’s shaking a little. “I trust you.” He lays his body against Steve’s and slides forward so his ass is within reach. Steve wraps his arm over top, blocked by Thor’s immense shoulders but able to feel his way. He finds his way, and Thor starts to whimper, but when the soldier pauses, the other man shakes his head and mumbles something about continuing. Concerned, Steve obeys, paying close attention and pushing his way in.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s not what he expected. He slides his finger out and Thor shivers harder than before, hints of his arousal pushing against Steve’s stomach. “Another?” Steve offers, and Thor nods.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve’s not sure how many fingers is supposed to be normal, or how many he should be doing until Thor is ready to take him, but they go to four, all while it becomes more apparent that Thor’s sounds are of pleasure, not of pain, though it certainly does hurt a little to start with. But they’re ready, and Thor sits back, and together they guide themselves into position. They start slow, and though the preparation helped, it’s still obviously a little painful to begin with. Thor doesn’t back down though, and his pupils crackle with bursts of blue light that glow off of Steve’s face as he looks down. It feels good for Steve too, warm and secure. Most of all, Thor is pleasured, enjoying every slip deeper and shifting to get comfortable. Even without benchmarks, Steve can’t help but feel impressed that Thor made it all the way down.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>They’re all the way down now, moving slightly as they test their positioning, Thor to remind himself, and Steve to learn. He </span>
  <span>sways</span>
  <span> his hips at Thor’s motions, building up a bit as it becomes clear that it feels good for the other man. It feels good for him, too. Steve gives an experimental thrust upward, and Thor’s eyes light up like a lighthouse, and he moans, lightning dancing under his skin as if in clouds. He’s fully and completely erect.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Beautiful...” Steve murmurs in the shadows, grasping Thor’s hips, moving one hand up his back then down to that sweet spot, sliding the other up to his head. He rubs behind Thor’s ear, down the side of his face. At this angle, they’re able to kiss. “So beautiful,” Steve says it again, right into Thor’s mouth and locking them inside with a deep kiss. “What do you want? More?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor is starting to go limp in Steve’s supporting grip, and he nods through something of a groaned but hasty ‘yes’. </span>
  <span>So</span>
  <span> Steve thrusts again, making the bed creak under their combined weight. If they’re not careful, Steve has a feeling they could easily break it. Steve continues, measuring each motion and finding the right gap between each. Thor responds, his pleasure evident in the glowing his body produces. There’s static in the air, and the smell of ozone, but it only enhances how entwined they are.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor comes first, which surprises Steve a little. He expected himself to be the more sensitive, but he’s able to hold himself back with Captain America’s legendary willpower to make sure he gets Thor to his climax. It’s healthy and eager, leaving a long, hot trail up Steve’s torso. Thor sighs and his eyes roll back, his fingertips sparking and fizzing as he goes almost entirely limp. Steve holds on, supporting him. He’s not going to be able to hold himself back for long... “Can I come...?” he asks. “In you...?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor nods, starting to return to himself. He’s </span>
  <span>present</span>
  <span> enough to offer his aid, fingers crackling purposefully as he strokes a circle around Steve’s nipple. The electricity makes that simple gesture feel better than Steve thought it could, and that’s all it takes to tip him over the edge. With a yelp he can’t suppress, it’s his turn to come. The white bliss he feels afterward swamps over everything, and Thor is still held enough by his own release that he’s able to slide off and lay right on top of Steve, grasping him tightly as they share these few moments of unparalleled pleasure. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>When Steve recovers enough to take in his surroundings, he realizes that Thor is crying into his hair. “Hey...” he kisses Thor’s ear and strokes the back of his head, squeezing his other arm around the prince’s back.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I didn’t think...” Thor swallows. “I didn’t think I could... It was good. It felt good. Did you feel good?” He pushes up to inspect the soldier’s face.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh yeah,” Steve agrees, still catching his breath. “Oh yeah... You enjoyed it too...?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“For a virgin you did remarkably,” Thor smiles and wipes his eyes.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We both did good,” Steve agrees. “But thanks.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Can we....?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Again?” Steve raises his eyebrows, and Thor nods. Steve is already reaching for the lube, and they’re at it again before they’ve entirely recovered, each of them with more confidence than before.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The second entry is easier, but Steve still takes his time. Thor is more responsive this time, his body remembering. This time he’s erect before Steve completely enters him, and he welcomes Steve to touch him. Steve does, taking this slow as well as he learns how to do this just right, where to squeeze, and how much, what the most sensitive spots are, and what motions Thor responds most to. The conversation is entirely silent, voiced only by their sounds of pleasure pushed out between breaths.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve teases more this time, and he’s a fast and willing learner, so the second go draws out better results than the first. Thor gets his release, and Steve gets his shortly after. Moments later, they’re collapsed and panting, warm and damp with sweat and other fluids.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>They recover, and Thor sits up. “Again?” Steve offers, but Thor shakes his head.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I cannot...” he whispers. “I’m sorry-”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t be,” Steve breathes. “Thor, don’t be. That was an amazing start. That was... well it was just flat-out amazing. You did so good.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor’s smile wipes away some of the apology. “Thank you,” he replies quietly. “Thank you, Steve. It was so good. Are </span>
  <span>you...”</span>
  <span> His frown returns. “Surely you cannot be satisfied... Two can’t be enough...”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Considering I was prepared to go without, and that this was my first go, I think this was a good start,” Steve replies. He could go another few </span>
  <span>rounds</span>
  <span>, but Thor’s done for today, therefore so is he. He’ll live. “That felt... </span>
  <em>
    <span>so</span>
  </em>
  <span> good... Here, lay down. Let me get some cloths.” He starts to sit, but Thor puts a hand to his shoulder and flattens him.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Let me,” he murmurs, reaching for the lube. “Let me satisfy you. May I...?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thor... you don’t have to.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I cannot continue, but you can,” Thor smiles. “I know it. There is much more left in you. Allow me to take care of it. It will not be a strain for me. In fact it would give me great pleasure. If it’s alright...”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Y-yeah,” Steve agrees, going limp under Thor’s hand. He watches the other man happily sit back and cover his hands in lube – they're going to need more for the next time, even if ‘next time’ is a week or a month or a year from now. There’s no place to think about the ‘then’ when Thor’s consuming his ‘now’, taking hold of Steve with a careful hand and starting slow. The god of thunder is learning too, remembering how to take care of someone else, and Steve enjoys every stroke. Just like they’ve always done, they build up, and Thor increases in confidence as he in-turn learns what Steve likes and the best ways to touch him. It’s not long before Steve is granted another release.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He blinks himself back into more awareness with Thor stroking his forehead and smiling proudly down at him. “More?” he offers quietly.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>If it’s being offered... Steve nods mutely, barely given a chance to recover before Thor is back at it, working with his thumb and squeezing with his palm, clearly very pleased to be able to do this. He’s comfortable, even to lower his mouth and look up for permission, which Steve gives.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>This is new and good, another wonderful thing added to a list that’s rapidly grown in the last hour. If his nipples were sensitive, his </span>
  <span>genitals</span>
  <span> are even more-so, which means Thor’s little touch with a sparking finger delivers double the punch. Thor’s lightning powers against a serum-</span>
  <span>heightened</span>
  <span> sensitivity results in pleasure Steve is confident no other human has ever experienced. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>With his mouth, his hands, and that extra spark of power, Thor administers another couple of rounds, until Steve is spent and finally shakes his head to the offer of more. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You truly are a man of unmatched spirit,” Thor praises, not too hasty to leave to clean up and instead lingering to stroke Steve’s hair through the last of his final climax. “I look forward to experiencing it again, and perhaps keeping up a bit further... Would you do this again...?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh yeah,” Steve readily agrees. “Yeah, I would. Thanks...”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course,” Thor smiles. “I liked it. I promise there will be more of me next time.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No rush,” Steve argues. “We go slow. Whatever you can do. This was already... amazing.” That’s the best word he can come up with to describe it, because that’s exactly what it was. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>You’re</span>
  </em>
  <span> amazing...”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor licks his lips and shuts the lube bottle. “We may need more of this.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Was thinking the same thing,” Steve laughs.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor laughs too as he walks naked off to the bathroom to get some supplies to clean them both up. They’ll both need a shower, but maybe in the morning... for now a quick wipe-down will suffice. Thor does most of the work of wiping them both up, but there is a fair bit to clean, so Steve helps. When they’re done, they climb into the clean side of the bed to sleep until morning when they’ll wash the bedding. This moment is too good to waste doing laundry, so they </span>
  <span>hurriedly</span>
  <span> cuddle up and quickly fall into the best sleep either of them has ever had.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>--</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor takes his time to build up to their next sessions, but he’s more confident and less scared than when they started the first time. It still takes a little bit of work to build up to sex, but Steve is patient and willing, and he enjoys it anyway. A little banter, some kissing, some touching, and they’re ready to try this again. With some fresh lube, they get to it, Steve giving like he did. Thor does better than last time, but he’s still not ready to keep up with Steve, still needs to cut things short before Steve is spent, but offers willingly to make up the difference and gladly helps Steve climax those last few times.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Things get better the next time, and the next time, and the time after that. Decisions aren’t made so deliberately vocalized, but rather silently agreed upon. Just like everything else, they find a rhythm, and they quickly learn each other. It feels like no time at all before Thor is easily matching Steve round for round, both of them exhausted without the need to call intercourse short.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sometimes Thor just can’t. Sometimes he’s unable even to begin, but that’s alright, and Steve reassures him that it’s not regression, but a bump in the road. Those are hard moments for Thor, when he’s </span>
  <span>disappointed</span>
  <span> in himself for not feeling up to sex even after kisses, and for letting Steve down and going back on his offer. Steve doesn’t mind. There will be days like this, when the past feels especially close and fresh. He declines Thor’s hasty offers to satisfy Steve in other ways, and insists that they just lie there together instead. There’s a lot of pleasure to be found in just lying here wrapped in each other’s arms chatting, too. And when those moments of struggle pass, Steve is careful to make sure his own desire for sex doesn’t blind him to Thor’s needs, and he’s always careful to make sure that Thor doesn’t offer something he’s not ready to give. It can be hard sometimes, when Thor is desperate to make Steve happy while ignoring his own needs, but Steve can tell if he pays attention.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Work and life go on, of course. They continue to run, cook, and hang out with the team. Frigga and Loki even stop by a couple of times, and are pleased to find that their family member is doing much better. Thor even invites Loki round to the tower one evening, to which his brother agrees. He’s welcomed in as a fellow Avenger, sitting on the other side of Thor while they partake of the usual activities.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve sits back to watch, very much enjoying the looks Loki gives his brother while Thor eats an entire pizza and starts another. The king of Asgard sits stoically, watching over the raucous games of Mario Kart with a beer he eventually hands off to Thor in exchange for a coffee. When Thor hands him the controller, however, he does take it.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>As expected, Loki is an excellent driver, and he destroys Clint without so much as a flinch, casually handing back his controller at the end of the race and sipping his coffee.</span>
  
</p>
<p><span>“</span><span>Oh</span> <em><span>come on!</span></em><span>“ Clint throws up his hands. “I give up.”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>They laugh, and the night goes on until the usual late hour. Tony yawns. “So,” he leans back in the arm chair and looks across at Steve and Thor. “You guys still set on staying in the apartment...? I mean, I got bigger beds here. And a hot tub.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve looks over, but Thor is already look back, his head slightly cocked. He gives a little nod and a small smile, but his eyes are questioning. Steve faces Tony again. “Yeah... I think we will.”</span>
  
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you all for your readership! I have a few final thoughts:</p>
<p>1. I have made a <a href="https://docs.google.com/document/d/1ExqnmjSfV8RakTVSwDWIwlT27UXdsn0Z01wYo2Mz6uU/edit?usp=sharing">google drive file</a> with a list of feedback questions I'm curious to have answered. If you want to write a review and don't know what to say, or if you want to support me in some way, please feel free to use those questions! You don't have to answer any/all of them - even just one means a great deal to me. You can add your thoughts to the document, or you can post them right on this story. Of course, no need to use those questions to write feedback - please feel free to write whatever! As always, I always greatly look forward to reading your thoughts.</p>
<p>2. If you do want to support me, I of course always value feedback of any kind. I appreciate any and all comments, as they all help encourage me toward, and improve, my next project. Additionally, here are some of my other links --&gt;<br/><a href="https://www.twitch.tv/sketchy_faye">Twitch</a> | <a href="https://stormyandrescuer.tumblr.com/">Tumblr</a> (still haven't found work, so comissions are open here)</p>
<p>3. I have a few more ideas for my next story, and I always welcome input! If you have any ideas, feel free to share them! This story was inspired by the two lovely folks Reklusa, and Writing_is_THORapy, so thank you very much for your feedback! I've got two thundershield ideas, a Stony one, and a Stucky idea too. I might do one of those first and leave thundershield until after, just to reset. I want to make sure I bring something new to the pairing, and that I'm not repeating myself (not too much, at least).</p>
<p>4. Thank you all very much, and I will see you in the next adventure B)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0027"><h2>27. Chapter 27</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hi guys! I decided to add my list of questions directly onto the story, in case you didn't want to open <a href="https://docs.google.com/document/d/1ExqnmjSfV8RakTVSwDWIwlT27UXdsn0Z01wYo2Mz6uU/edit?usp=sharing">the google doc</a>. I'm really hoping for some detailed feedback on this (or any other story of mine, if you like!), to improve future stories. I understand reviews are tough to write, as well as time-consuming, but if you can I would love if you could answer even just one of these questions by commenting here!</p>
<p>Thank you so much &lt;3 all feedback means so much to me, regardless of how in-depth it is. I'm explicitly asking for this because I want to encourage constructive criticism (I know it can be scary to give it when not everyone on the internet is accepting of it), and because I want to do everything I can to make sure I'm improving story-to-story in some way. And I value your opinions!</p>
<p>Thanks again &lt;3 and thank you for the responses I've already received! It's a huge encouragement to continue to write.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <ol>
<li><span>Was this particular story different from my previous stories? Were the journeys (physically, and emotionally) different and engaging?</span></li>
<li><span>Did the plot make sense, in terms of physical events and character development? Were there any parts that were confusing, or felt too slow/too fast? Did the actions of characters feel justified, and make sense? Were there any plot holes you noticed?</span></li>
<li><span>Was the story surprising? Was it satisfying? Were you pleased with how things turned out? Was it too predictable?</span></li>
<li><span>Were common elements that appear in other stories done better, worse, or the same?</span></li>
<li><span>When you read some of the more physically-complicated scenes, do they make sense? Can you see where people are ending up, and does it make sense what’s going on?</span></li>
<li><span>Do you ever feel lost or confused? Was there anything that drew you out of the story while you were reading it, like a confusing element, or something that didn’t seem to fit?</span></li>
<li><span>Were you ever bored reading? Did the feelings of the story feel genuine? Was there ever a time where anything felt contrived, or misplaced?</span></li>
<li><span>Did the chapters make sense to be broken up as they were? Did they end well, and were you excited to find out what happens next? Were there any parts of the story that felt like filler, or that did not add anything to the story, and weren’t enjoyable?</span></li>
<li><span>What were your favorite, and least favorite parts? What things would you like to see done again, and what new things might you like to see? Is there anything you’re tired of seeing, or that needs work?</span></li>
<li><span>Do you ever read something and not understand where I was trying to go? Conversely, do you ever feel like I over-explain something? Do you ever find that I illustrate a point, but then blatantly state what you already figured out for yourself? Do I ever go into too much detail, and not leave enough for you to figure out on your own?</span></li>
<li><span>Are there any issues you notice in my writing, for example (but not limited to): cliches, run-on sentences, ideas that don’t flesh out well, pithy sentences, redundant descriptions, etc.?</span></li>
<li><span>Thematically, does the story work well? Do the themes carry through the story? Do you ever feel like an event or story element contradicts a theme that you felt was present? Do you ever pick up on a plot thread or thematic element and think ‘that didn’t really go anywhere…’.</span></li>
</ol>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Just adding my links at the end here for the sake of neatness :)</p>
<p><a href="https://stormyandrescuer.tumblr.com/">Tumblr</a> | <a href="https://www.twitch.tv/sketchy_faye">Twitch</a> | <a href="https://ko-fi.com/Manage/Index">Ko-Fi</a></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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